That's Bill

Over the weekend we went to a Christmas Party with the kids. On our way to the party we informed the kids that Santa was going to be at the party. Tom and I knew in advance that we would have to get our stories straight about Santa and his helpers. Trevor did not understand how this could happen since Santa needed to be in the North Pole making his Christmas presents. (He has a very long wish list) We told the kids that Santa has helpers that he sends all around the world to help him and one of Santas helpers would be at the party.

Trevor is an incredibly sensitive and intuitive boy. We have lovingly nicknamed him "Hounddog" because his sense of smell is so incredible. There's no sneaking a piece of chocolate when Trevor is home, he will know, no matter where he is he can smell it. One time I had a piece of chocolate, then went out to the car to take the kids to a class. Trevor immediately said,"Mom, where did you get that chocolate?" It had been at least 10 minute since I had indulged in my simple pleasure, and it was not something that I was interested in sharing. I can't lie to my children, but at the same time, I was no longer eating the chocolate. Initially I told him that I was not eating chocolate...but finally, I had to confess that I had a piece while at home as he would not give up, afterall he is a "Hounddog".

So the kids had a great time at the party. They played games with friends and Ella enjoyed the snack table (how she loves her chocolate, too!) The party was at the Mary Campbell Center, a residential facitily for people with disabilities. We participate in many of the events at the Center because they have an amazing program for kids with disabilities and their families. The counselors at the Center are college students who have great relationships with the kids. Toward the end of the party, Santa arrives. He looks like no other Santa I have seen. He is skinny, his beard is falling off and competely covering his mouth and his jacket is on backwards. (the white fur lining is going down the center of his back) Needless to say, the kids are thrilled to see Santa. Aliza goes running from across the room and tackles him, yelling "It's Santa, It's Santa!" So all is going well, Santa sits down and starts handing out gifts. The kids sit on the floor surrounding Santa. (All except for Ella who needs to have clear path to the refreshments) Aliza is right up front and center and Trevor is somewhat septical and sits with Tom toward the back of the group.

So aside for the backwards clothing, the problems with the beard and the lack of Santaesque voice, Santa seems to be pulling this gig off and we have three very happy children. However, Trevor is very quiet and focused. He is sitting on Tom's lap, seemingly waiting patiently for Santa to call his name. (He is one of the last children called.) When out of the mouths of babes, "Hounddog" turns around to Tom and says, "Dad, that's Bill" There was no mistaking it, there was no justifying, there was no covering up. The fact of the matter was, Santa was Bill. We never had to explain, there were no other questions about Santas helpers and the issue has yet to be addressed in our home. We stressed about making sure we were on the same page when in the end "Hounddog" summed it all up for us, "That's Bill"