Yesterday was all about the parties. We went from one straight to another, the final one being an open house at my parentals. My sis was here with my fabby niece and nephew and there were lots of Aunty Dizz moments including some serious dancing to some Christmas choons, a charades game that bordered on the ridiculous (how are we supposed to know someone's teacher / best friend?!), and a quiet chat on the sofa that nearly broke my heart which went something like this:
Me: what have you asked for, for Christmas?
Him: A slap hat (insert: at least I think this is what it's called...) and FIFA 13 and a red and white top to go with my red and white Converse ... (small pause) ... but I know the truth now ...
Me: (trying to keep voice from cracking) Oh ... but it can still be special and magical even when you know the truth ...
Him: (so not believing his Aunty Dizz) maybe ...
First of all I think it's brilliant that he was able to believe for as long as he did and kudos to my sister for managing that, but big boo to the boys at school who called him a baby and told him the truth. Where's the harm in believing? I'm pretty sure that there's still a little part of me that believes it's true after all...
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