We had our Christmas party today. Santa came (the husband of a lady who works here. He’s built exactly like you’d expect, with the long white hair and beard.), and everyone got a present, and their picture taken on his lap. The kids were in awe of him. Afterwards, when he stuck around the party, they crowded around him asking questions. One little boy stroked his hair and beard, probably to see if they were real. (The elf—his wife—introduced us, and he said he’s been doing this for ten years. He's the best Santa I’ve ever met.)
I almost died of cuteness at the kids’ reaction when they were on his lap, getting their picture taken. Some were so shy and excited to be near him. Others were really scared. All of them were in awe of the presents he gave.
I’ve never had much Christmas spirit. I mean, I love that it’s family time, but I never for a second believed in Santa Claus. I can see why, though, when we have kids, I might just tell them about Santa and let them believe as long as they can.