Two summers ago, when Douglas was 7, he asked me if there was really a Santa. We were driving somewhere, just the 2 of us, which was oddly coincidental as I learned the “truth” in a car ride with my father when I was 5.
I however fielded the question much more deftly than my dad, and asked Douglas what he thought. We then proceeded to have a lovely discussion about Christmas and what it means.
He’s now 8 and went to see Santa this year at his own request. I think he still believes.
Which is great, because now I do again too.