Yes, Adison. There is.

I was doing Adi's hair for school a couple of days ago when she she asked me with her gigantic blue eyes staring at me, "Mom, is there really a Santa?"

I gulped.  "Why do you ask?"

"Because sometimes I think that it's you and Dad."

Oh, my dear little Adi.  She's always been the most excited for Christmas.  She writes Santa a letter nearly every night in December asking him about how is Christmas plans are going and how much she loves him.  Last year she even drew out and designed the Big Man, the Mrs. and a few of his favorite elves brand new ultra-deluxe bedrooms. 

And she expects answers back (yep, I do a lot of creative writing in December).

I am not ready for this.  To strip this upcoming holiday of all it's glitter and magic.  To have Adi see it as a commercial-driven, money-spending, list-of-wants and don't-really-needs day that it sometimes feels like to us adults who fund it.  I prefer the magic and the glitter.  I prefer the sweet little notes and the plate of cookies with a few carrots for the reindeer.  I prefer the innocence.

I know that her friends have already begun to tell her that she shouldn't believe and that it is impossible for one fat man to deliver gifts around the whole world in one night.  But Adi, with her ferociously loyal spirit, always defends and counter-argues.  He is real.  He is alive.  He is.

In the next few years there are some big changes coming Adi's way.  Soon enough this world will get through the little cracks in the fluffy bubble of innocence that I've kept her comfortably wrapped up in these past 8 years.  So much information and worldly "truths" will fill her head and she'll begin to see the worry and the anger and the hate that fills this earth. 

And I won't... no, I can't take it away from her now.  Not yet.  So I'm asking for one more year of magical celebration.  One more holiday of  true Santa poems, stories and songs.  Just another two months of Belief.  I promise that after this year has come to a close, the next time my oldest girl asks me if I am Santa Clause, I will tell her the truth. 

No.  Dad and I are not Santa.  We as parent's have the honor of filling old Kris Kringle's shoes once a year.  That we get to take the mission of a Bishop that lived so long ago and let it live on, and help it to make this world be wonderful and more loving this one time of the year.  I'll explain how parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents have all helped to spread the joy of giving and and sacrifice that is called Santa through generations. I will tell her that it is now her privilege to help carry this tradition forward.  It is her duty to make this holiday magical and mysterious for her younger siblings, cousins, friends and all of those who still Believe.  She is now part of the special few who take this job very seriously and that she must too.

But not yet.  Not this year.  Not this Christmas.

I know she'll forgive me for my personal indulgence some day in the future when she watches her own children's eyes light up on Christmas morning.

**Thank you Peggy for the inspiration on how to answer her!**