I do believe really…..

I am officially the worst Mother EVER.  I don’t need anybody else to tell me this.

I feel I have {with assistance from Mr 29}  ruined Christmas forever more for Thing 1.

Last night, Mr 29 and I made the decision that we needed to tell our oldest Thing that Father Christmas didnt exist *hidesheadinhands*.  He really had no idea that he was pretend, a fictional character that we, as parents, have forced onto him.  What a BITCH I am- like I said, the worst Mother.  EVER.

We made this decision as:

1) it’s Christmas soon {did you know?} and there’s lots of talk about a beaded man in a red suit, naughty lists etc.

2) Thing 1 is now at secondary school and I didn’t want him to be picked on, laughed at, bullied etc by saying what he asked Santa for.

We spoke to him, once Thing 2 had gone to bed, and explained that Christmas is a wonderful, magical and special time and as parents we LOVE it {we do- Mr 29 is the biggest kid ever}.  But, that, Father Christmas is not real {I feel sick typing this} and that the parents buy the children’s presents. We told him, he will still get {providing he is good} what is on his Christmas list, he will still have a stocking at the end of his bed, we will still leave a carrott out for the reindeers and whisky for Santa Mr 29 to drink.  And we will still have the tallest tree Mr 29 can possibly get {despite my protests every year} so as The 29 Household can compete in the annual ‘Tree Off’ with our friends and family.

We explained our reasoning to him and he took it really well.  He was also bribed with an early present so as not to tell Thing 2.

So why do I feel sooooo awful if I think we made the right decision?



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