My son William said goodbye to Santa Claus today. The kid across the street told him that his mom ‘fessed up to being the big guy.

He came home and asked me about it point blank.

This isn’t the first time this has come up. In the past, though, I’ve been able to easily skirt the question by discrediting the source.

“Who told you that? Kyle? He’s a doofus.”

But this time, he had a parental check on his source. It wasn’t Kyle, it was Kyle’s mom. She admitted it.

I didn’t want to lie to him, but at the same time, I didn’t want to take Santa away from him. I tried to split the difference by saying that while there isn’t really a round, red-robed man that comes to our house, but…

He was devestated. The look on his face was heartbreaking.

I went on to tell him that Santa was really the spirit of Christmas, and that he does exist, just in different forms, at different times in our lives. I told him how when he’s a father, he’ll get to be Santa.

It didn’t help. And now the magic is gone.

It will come back when he has children of his own, just as it did for me. But I wish it could have lasted a little bit longer.

Stupid Kyle.