"what do you want to know?" i responded, using the tried-and-true parenting method of deflection so as to avoid making promises one cannot keep.
"okay," liam sighed, clasping his hands together and looking quite serious as his big blue eyes focused on mine. "here's my question. do you and daddy move gofster every night?"
i froze.
and then my mind went into panic mode. gofster. beloved family member since 2007. son doubting. an accusation. must answer somehow. must not lie.
i swallowed. "gofster? our elf the shelf?" i stalled. "why would you ask that?"
liam moved his clasped hands to point at what was below them: the target christmas catalog, turned to a page where the boxed edition of the elf the shelf was featured prominently above the price tag of $29.95. "i mean, you can just go buy one at any store around here," he said. "i just saw a whole table full of them at the bookstore last week. so is gofster just something you bought, and you and daddy move him while susanna and i are sleeping?"
oh crud. susanna. my mind escalated its panic mode, as i whipped around to see if she was privy to our conversation. i had been thrown into such a tizzy that for that moment i didn't even realize that she was in the next room, practicing piano, obviously oblivious. whew. unfortunately i turned back to find liam still sitting there, looking at me, expectant.
must answer somehow. must not lie.
"well, i think that gofster is part of the magic of christmas," i stammered in what i hoped to be a confident enough voice. "i think there are so many magical parts of christmas, and it's fun to just believe in that magic." and then, calling on that same tried-and-true method of deflection, i followed with, "are you ready for some more orange juice?"
liam dropped the subject, but my mind was reeling. had we already arrived to this long-dreaded point, where that aforementioned magic starts to lose its luster? did we really already have children old enough to start questioning? a little part of me sort of wilted inside, unable -- or maybe just unwilling -- to accept the fact that our children aren't tiny little towheaded toddlers anymore. they might actually stop believing unconditionally everything their parents have told them.
after mulling it over with chris, we decided that we would wait for liam to bring it up again, and then perhaps have a long conversation about it -- which turned out to be the best decision we could have made, because it actually never came up again. instead, the very first thing we heard on the morning of december 1st, after the racing thumps of footsteps down the stairs and back up again, was this scream of sheer elation:
"susanna! mommy! daddy! I FOUND HIM! GOFSTER IS HERE!"
and for the following 23 days, gofster was, once again, embraced as our long-lost fifth family member. they've woken up early each morning to search for him; they've regaled everyone they see with tales of his antics. they've accepted 2 dollar bills from him after he apparently intercepted the tooth fairy (they lost 3 teeth between them in 3 days), made his picture their screensaver on their iPods, and communicated with him via written notes. (oh, the notes. enough to fill a book. that might just be a post for another day.)
i look back on that terrible conversation from november and cringe, sad to be reminded of the doubt that was creeping into my little boy's mind. but for once, i'm grateful for my parenting uncertainty, for it turned out to be a blessing. i could have had that honest discourse he was requesting, but if i had, i would have denied him another holiday season's worth of joy -- at least, the type of joy that is brought by a magical elf on the shelf that can be bought for $29.95. i can now acknowledge that the reason i was so uncertain of how to handle it was because i wasn't yet ready to give the answer.
but i am certain about one thing now, in hindsight, and it's this: he didn't really want to know it anyway.
the kids found him one morning with headphones to his tiny ears, jamming to the christmas station on pandora
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