K-Bug has taken on the role of making sure MY stocking doesn't go empty (as it used to).

Seriously, how awesomely big-hearted is that girl? Just about as much as the woman who raised her, of course.

The gifts from Golo (the giant who lives in Granddaddy's head - different grandfather from the one above) were always much more special, because Golo is real. Golo's Norweigen rat friends Sven and Olaf are also real, but we never got presents from them because they are cheap bastards.

That's the most endearing bastardy I've ever heard of.

And such a very large dose of ~ma to your grandfather, Jess, especially stay-off-the-vent~ma. I'm so sorry he's been stuck in the hospital (especially a strange hospital far from his home) for so long; that's misery-making.

I actually spent the entire morning commute thinking about Emmett and Santa and wanting to start a conversation in Bitches about it, and then I get here and find it's already well under way and nearly over!

I do remember finding out the truth as a horrible, crushing disappointment. It was the death of Magic -- oddly, not in the least affecting my religious faith, but it was so awful to feel that the last remotely plausible door on Faerie had swung shut.

I know Matilda won't be able to distinguish truth from tales from lies for a few years yet, but I think I'd like to keep doing what we did with Emmett last night and what some of y'all have talked about: emphasize the real Saint Nicholas, his spirit of love and giving (he was the son of a wealthy fishing/merchant family in what's now Turkey, and made numerous gifts throughout his life of food and money to the often wretchedly poor folk in his region -- usually anonymously, so nobody would feel beholden to him or his family, and sometimes just by tossing a bag of goodies through an open window in the dead of night); how Santa is based on him and is a way for all of us to be that secret giver for everyone else.

That telling his story and pretending to be him is a way to be generous and silly and loving, and to show each other that even when we feel alone and desperate there may be someone watching us and loving us and waiting for the right moment to give us some good thing.

Though there's also the part where we'd have to warn her that some kids really really believe and she has to respect that.

Also, Jesus Birthday Cake has been on my list of traditions I'd love to take up for a very, very long time. Cake for breakfast! What's better than that? Okay, Jesus Birthday Eggs Benedict drowning in hollandaise might be even better, but no way would Emmett go for that.

Stephanie's post got me thinking about my own Christmas traditions and beliefs, so bear with me as I ramble on a bit.

I was raised Congregational Protestant and went to church regularly as a child, but my spiritual path led me away from Christianity as an adult. I know that some people would consider my Christmas sacrilegious since I don't believe Christ is my savior now, but my celebration has evolved into something very personal and precious to me. I believe that Jesus did exist and was an important figure, and my Christmas does honor the aspects of his teaching that focus on love and forgiveness. More so, however, I believe in the spirit of Christmas, in celebrating the people in my life with love and gifts. I believe in the tree as a symbol of life in the heart of winter and in the power of the changing seasons. Christmas, to me, is about peace and joy. I used to struggle with whether I could introduce any child I had to Christmas given the fact that I am no longer a Christian, but I think I have come to terms with that now.

I would let my children believe in Santa and his reindeer, in the magic of the holiday. When children are young, they don't need complicated explanations, after all. As they grew up, I would teach them about all the major religions, including Jesus and about why Christians cherish the 25th as his birthday, and I would talk to them about the ideas of love, forgiveness, and generosity that Christ's teachings exemplify. I would also teach my children about the spirit of Christmas and about its varied roots--about the pagan solstice and the way that Christianity incorporated that celebration into its own beliefs. My hope would be that my children would come to embrace the spirit of the holiday as I do, as a time to contemplate the people in our life and honor them, and as a time to come together joyfully.

I completely respect Christians' desire to preserve Christmas as a religious holiday for their families. I'm also glad, though, that American culture allows me to preserve this cherished holiday in a secular way. It's anathema to the Christian Right, but hey, what part of my life isn't? (I'm tempted to add a smiley emoticon to show the lightness of my mood right now, but I will abstain.)

{{{Jessica}}} Much much much ~~ma out to you and Grampa.

{{{Jessica and Gramps}}}

Aw, Emmett. It sounds like a good transition, though.

Also, more hugs for Jessica. {{{{{Jessica}}}}}

how Santa is based on him and is a way for all of us to be that secret giver for everyone else.

It occurs to me that you probably don't have to write a thank you note to Santa. Big advantage I hadn't thought of before.

I had more to say but it was getting sort of repetitive. Anyway, I really enjoy hearing about everyone's traditions.

We never had a Jesus Birthday Cake, but we did eat something that was decorated just like a cupcake (with almond frosting! yum! yum!) every Christmas morning.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Emeline!! I said it elsewhere but had not yet said it here.

{{{Jess}}}

Happy birthday, Emeline! I also refuse to believe you're three.

But I do believe in Santa. And in my family, it is quite normal to have labels on presents that read From: Elves Local 1225.

A gunman is holding people hostage at Hillary Clinton's campaign headquarters in New Hampshire: link.

I want Em to believe in Santa for the rest of her life. I want her to leave out cookies for him to eat, milk for the reindeer the whole bit.

Because...what if he does exist? If we don't pay proper tribute to the blood-suited man 'gainst whom no lock can hold nor portal bar then gods only know what havoc he could wreak! Soot on the carpet! Coal in your footwear! Reindeer shit in your oatmeal!!

Or worse.

It's all about blood in the snow, children. Beware, lest the blood be yours.