For 8 years she believed it.
You clean up the house, scrub your room, say your prayers, be kind to everyone, then wish upon a dream.
Like Lakshmi for Diwali, there was Santa for Christmas.
It was a lovely little dream.
On 24th December, they prayed just a little too hard.
The eyes would be wide shut, the prayers that note louder. It was the night of the presents. Windows would be opened.
"We have to make it easy for Santa and his helpers. He has to go and visit many children," Aneesha would remind her brother.
At the stroke of the midnight hour, I'd hurry on with the presents, change my straight writing to a slanting one, write in the cards and sign them off Yours Santa.
Each year as I set the presents side by side - one for Dhruv, one for Aneesha, I'd wonder if this would spell the end of the Santa myth.
Last night, it felt this year would be it.
It all started with Dhruv's hot wheels.
"How did Santa know?"
He can read your mind, I offered.
"But you went back to Vivocity last night, Dhruv showed you the Hot Wheels. Are you Santa."
I hmmmed and haaawed and in that instant it was over.
"All these years, you and Daddy were Santa! Why didn't you tell us? I love you."
In that instant all the secrecy, the hiding of the presents, the myth of Santa, it all made our little cat and mouse game well worth it.
Next year, I hope we still have a little room left for Santa.
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Children, it's been said, help us grow. We sure have through ours. There have been moments - trying as well as testing, but those impish smiles have always won us over. We fear we shall lose these moments, these proverbial rites of passage as the years go by. So here's a little something that will help us celebrate the life they have given us. We wouldn't want it any other way.
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