Christmas in July

I don't know if it is all the holiday specials that the Hallmark Channel is running that made the question come up or if it is was just time. But this morning during our normal get-out-the-door routine, Jacinda looked at me while I was pondering what shirt to wear with my brown slacks and nonchalantly said "Santa isn't real."
I have to admit I was kind of stunned at her statement, not because she had come to conclusion but more in the timing of it. I turned away from my orange eyelash shirt and looked at her. "Is he?" she asked. "Well..." that was all I got out before she said. "I knew it!" And just like that I knew an era was over. There were no tears, no anger...just acceptance and a little laugh.at how she had solved the mystery.
We chatted a bit about how I get everything wrapped, the importance of not spoiling the surprise for other children who still believe and how it doesn't change the true meaning of our Christmas celebration.
Allowing or encouraging Jacinda to believe in Santa was something I considered long and hard before I even saw her face.
Years before I became a parent I heard relatives talk about how the discovery of the Santa truth was a devastating childhood memory. My own discovery came when I accidentally found a blue coat hanging in my mom's closet and received it that year for Christmas. It really wasn't that big of a deal for me - even being a really sensitive kid.
I have friends who chose to  eliminate Santa from Christmas stating that they were worried that lying to their children about Santa would make them less likely to believe the truth about Jesus. I never really thought of it as lying and certainly believed my God was big enough to make himself real to Jacinda in His own ways.
My philosophy had always been that when Jacinda asked the question about Santa's existence it would signify that she was ready to know the truth. My only anxiety about the whole discussion was my desire to be the one to share the revelation and that it not come from someone else. I was so concerned about it that I almost told her this past Christmas. And now I am glad I didn't.
Jacinda's openly accepted the cultural custom of Santa...embraced it even. She wrote her letters, tracked him on the computer, left out cookies - the whole nine yards. It was fun to see and every single year of those three someone would inevitably say to me "Enjoy it now, because this will probably be your last year of her believing." 
Our Santa talk this morning was a sweet reminder that my girl is growing up. She is often practical and wise beyond her years. She takes things in stride but has a love of life that is exuberant.
The look on her face when I asked her if she was OK with everything was priceless. "Don't worry Mommy - I am fine," she said and walked out the door only to pop her head back in a few seconds later.
"So if Santa isn't real...that means the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy..." I shrugged and gave her a smile.
"Wow. Just. Wow," she said. "You're good."