Christmas Magic (Alert: This is NOT a child friendly post)

I still believe in Santa Claus.

That's the lesson that I learned this year at Christmas. I know he's not real. I know that every year I select the special "Santa" paper that only Santa gifts are wrapped in and that I use different penmanship to sign the name tags on those packages (Something my mother never did. Sorry Mom but that eventually became a dead giveaway.) I know that I stuff the kids' stockings and put the presents under the tree. I also know I'm the one that writes the letter back to Hannah when she leaves out a note for Santa with her cookies and carrots.

But there is still a bit of that holiday magic in me. I don't know which Christmas it was specifically that put me in such awe of the magic - I think it may have been the year I got my giant yellow bean bag - but I know that every Christmas it seemed like our tree "exploded" with gifts when Santa came. We'd go to bed with a few presents under the tree and wake up to have so many of them under there that they spilled out from under the tree and into the rest of the living room. Every year it is my goal to make the tree "explode" as much as possible for when the kids come down in the morning. It just seems so incredibly magical.

But here is why I've come to the conclusion that I still believe Santa is real.

I track Santa each Christmas Eve on http://www.noradsanta.org/. I say I do it for the kids but really I'm the one that gets it started and I'm the one that keeps checking it. They'll run back and forth to check his status but I'm all over that thing like it's going to reveal the secrets of the world to me. This year, at 11:45 p.m., I saw Santa arrive in Boston. And even though the presents were already under the tree, and the stockings were already over-flowing with gifts, I still looked outside waiting to see the silhouette of a sleigh being led by Rudolph. I still tilted my head to the side and listened for sleigh bells.

I still believe in Santa Claus.