He Knows... There's No Santa. Or Easter Bunny. Or Tooth Fairy.

It is April 8th, and the Easter holiday is just a few days away. We are surrounded by such religious symbols as giant chocolate bunnies, colored hard-boiled eggs, and marshmallow chicks. (I know, you've heard all the jokes. Moving on.)

Is it a very bad sign when you pull into your driveway, thoughts of Easter dinner menus swirling in your head, and there's a dead bunny rabbit steps from your humble abode's entrance? I jokingly said, after "EEEWWWW! A dead rabbit!" and swerving the minivan, "Guess no jellybeans for you this year, kids!" It was a joke...

My ten year old son, the careful pragmatic dude, pipes up, "It's okay, mom. We know it is you and dad anyway. Like Santa."

WHAT??? The jig, as they say, is up.

It's 9 p.m., seven year old daughter in bed snoring, and I go to have a little bedside chat with the young lad, who happens to inhale Peeps like they are the last food on earth.

Me: "Uh, what did you mean when you mentioned the Easter Bunny and Santa, honey?"
Lad: "Oh, I knew you were Santa 'cause I know your writing on the tags, mom. Duh."
Me: "Darn. Don't ruin it for your sister."
Lad: "I won't. But she probably knows." (Translation: I told her already.)
Me: "Well, play along. You know that Santa is real in our hearts, as a symbol of generosity and love and kindness, right?"
Lad: "Sure. Whatever. We still get presents, right? G'night."

I close the door, heading for the tissue box. Sniff. I'm resolved to still sneak around December 24th, and I'm gonna hide those eggs I slaved over Saturday night, and those kids will have a blast no matter what, gosh darnit. A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do. It's in the handbook. Look it up. Page 52, after "New Year's Eve: Try Drugging the Kids For Faster Bedtimes."

Happy Easter, Passover, and Marathon Monday/Patriots Day to my Bostonian friends... may the spirit of all the holidays live in your heart... no matter what the kids tell you.