He doesn’t need rose-colored glasses yet; they’re built in.

These sunglasses have brought Braden great joy for the past few months.

When he first started playing with them, he was a little unsure of what to do with himself. He’d hold them up to his face, turn them, flip them.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

He would wear them on his belly. His navel was protected from the sun’s harsh rays as he spun in circles around our living room, singing.

More and more he put them on his face. Showing them off to everyone. Smiling, laughing. So proud of having them there.

Recently, he broke them.

An accident, really. He dropped them and immediately stepped on them before he could still his forward motion. I saw it happen. One of the supports snapped right off.

I wailed inside. My whole body simultaneously tightened and melted for him. I just knew there would be a complete meltdown.

I was wrong.

He sat down on the floor and delicately picked up the two distinct pieces. He was quiet. His mouth was a tiny, slighty open “o” as he sat there, brow furrowed.

He held them in his hands, looking at them, his face full of questions. *melting*

I bit my lip and I told him that I was so sorry, but there was no way to fix them. *tightness*

He just stared at me with his big, blue eyes. *melting*

I told him that they were broken, forever. *tightness*

He kept trying to piece them back together anyway. *melting*

There he sat, holding them up against one another… over and over again, because he just knew that eventually they’d be fixed again.

That is him right now.

The beautiful, innocent child, blissfully unaware that some things can never be fixed after they’re broken, no matter how hard you try to put them back together.

In my heart, I know that my jaded view is not the one I want.

I want to believe, like he does.

Moreover, I never want him to stop believing that.

Oh world, please don’t take this from him for a long, long time.

Maybe there’s time for me to learn to believe again, through him.

I Believe.

Have you written your letter to Santa yet?  What are you waiting for?

Don’t tell me… you don’t… BELIEVE!?

Give your serious side a break this month and get wrapped up in the idea that some fat guy who lives with a bunch of midgets is going to break into your house while you’re sleeping and stuff random crap into your socks!


COME ON, IT’S FUN!

Seriously, though, writing a little letter to Santa with your kids is a fun way to let the imagination and magic sparkle at this time of year.

And right now Macy’s is making it even better, with their Believe Campaign.

In 1897 a little girl named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the Editor of The New York Sun:

Dear Editor,

I am 8 years old.  Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.  Papa says if you see it in The Sun it’s so.  Please tell me the truth.  Is there a Santa Claus?

The Editor published his response in The New York Sun.  An excerpt:

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  He exists just as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.

You can see the full response here.

Right now, Macy’s Believe Campaign is asking you to help preserve that magic for your kids by writing letters to Santa with them.  And for every letter you bring to Santa’s Letterbox at Macy’s, they will donate $1 to the Make-A-Wish Foundation (a non-profit charity that grants wishes to children with life-threatening medical conditions).

So let yourself Believe.