On March 11, before everything went absolutely Corona-crazy, our oldest daughter, Noelle, turned 10 years old. Double digits. Two whole hands. A decade. Ten.
I don’t remember a whole lot from my younger years. Of course, I see photos of myself as a young child and think that I remember something, but in reality I don’t have too many first-hand memories I can recount from way back. However, I do remember turning 10. I remember my mom planning a surprise party for me, and I remember feeling like a pretty big deal. Knowing that there’s a good chance that what Noelle experiences from this point forward will remain in her accessible memory as she approaches adulthood made this birthday even more special. She won’t remember how I slaved over making 50 bird-shaped cake pops for her first birthday, but she might just remember the details of her tenth.
No pressure or anything.
That Wednesday, I asked Noelle the question that probably every parent asks every child on his or her birthday.
“Do you feel older?”
“No,” she replied. “I think I will feel older tomorrow.”
But if we are both being honest, she has probably been feeling older for quite some time. She has been slowly “turning 10” for several months now — in her actions, her words, her experiences, and her revelations.
We hit a pretty big milestone this past December, when she came to the realization one week before Christmas that Santa Claus “wasn’t real.” If you’re reading Mom and Dad, you might not want to go any further — it’s a sad one.
Luke and I had just sent the kids to bed, and we were downstairs watching TV. Noelle came back down and just…lingered. I could tell something was on her mind, and after some prodding, she said, “I have been thinking about…Santa.”
We both froze. We knew where this was going, but we weren’t ready for it. We stared blankly at her while we waited for her next words.
“I know there are such things as miracles, but I don’t know how one man can get around the entire world to every house in one night. And I don’t know how he can fit down the chimney. And I want to believe it, but I don’t think I do.”
Cue more blank stares. Jaws starting to drop.
“I know that Saint Nicholas was a real person.”
There it was. She left the door open for me to step through. I was going to save this!
“You’re right,” I said. “Saint Nicholas was a real person! And in his spirit is Santa Claus, and all the reasons why we share gifts and love at Christmas.”
“But Saint Nicholas would be like 1,000 years old,” she replied.
Our silence probably told her everything she needed to hear. I couldn’t lie to this child. She was searching for truth, and this was my moment to not eff that up. Finally, after a few more seconds of silence, she said:
“It’s you guys. Isn’t it?” She didn’t need to see our faces. She knew the answer, and she turned and ran back up the stairs.
Luke went after her and brought her back down. We sat her on the couch and gently explained to her that she was correct. We had been acting as Santa Claus. We explained that this was now a secret club for the three of us, and she was not, under any circumstances, to tell her siblings or her friends. We exchanged a triple pinkie promise, and after she dried her eyes, and asked her how she felt.
“Well, I’m a little heartbroken. But I’m also a little relieved. I always thought it was creepy that an old man would come into your house.”
That’s my girl.
We gave her the longest hug ever and sent her up to bed. And as soon as she was out of sight, Luke and I hugged each other and cried. Sobbed, actually. We weren’t ready for this.
And, while that night she appeared to grow up before our very eyes, she managed to grow a little bit more on Christmas morning. I was nervous about how it would go since she “knew.” Would she be excited? Would she accidentally tell her siblings? Would there be any magic anymore? But when I woke up to the sound of her telling her little sisters and brother, “Guys! Santa came…” I knew everything would be alright.
I watched her “slowly turn 10” the weekend before her birthday when we went to pick out her special Free Dress outfit for school. On their birthdays, students don’t have to wear their uniforms, so it is a pretty big deal. We went to several stores, and she labored over the choices. Romper? Dress? Pants and a top? She tried on the same 2-3 outfits several times, carefully pointing out the features of each one. After about an hour, she started to get discouraged, as nothing was giving her the feeling she wanted.
After another walk through the store, she picked up a new item that she had spotted earlier on, but I didn’t really pay attention to it. It was a black romper with white polka dots. I had gravitated toward a different option that I thought was better, and admittedly I tried to push her in that direction.
I finally agreed to let her try on the one that caught her eye, and she loved it.
But she knew I loved the other outfit and she was convinced she should get that one. Her eyes said it all. She didn’t want it, but she didn’t want to disappoint me.
Thankfully, God guided my words and told her the right thing — that if she feels beautiful and confident in the other outfit, she should go with that one. She should not get the one I like just to please me.
And with that, the weight lifted off her shoulders and she twirled back and forth in front of the mirror – excited and happy and, again, more grown up than she was before we entered the store.
I know that we will only continue to have difficult conversations with Noelle. I know that there will be more talks that end in tears and more dressing room drama. A part of me wishes I could just fast-forward through the next 10 years to bypass all of that, but my heart couldn’t handle Noelle growing up any faster than she already has.
That night, after the Santa talk, I asked Luke if we handled it the right way. I almost ran back into her room, woke her up, and told her “Just kidding! Of course Santa is real!” But Luke assured me that we did what was best.
She wanted the truth…and as it turned out, she could handle the truth.
I was still afraid that I had squelched her belief in miracles. So when I came upon a necklace that said BELIEVE, I knew it had to be hers. It was a secret gift between her and me.
It was my way of telling her that there is still SO much to believe in…and believing in herself is most important of all.
