The Truth Hurts

The day came, and I wasn't expecting it.  I'm sitting at the table while Nathan is doing homework and he says, 'Mom, everyone says the parents bring the presents.'  Me: 'What are you talking about?  (Knowing full well what he is talking about and using the extra time to process the alerts going off).Nathan:  'That parents bring the presents and not Santa!'I FROZE.  I never freeze. I'm rarely caught speechless.  I usually have some way of re-directing this stuff. And yet I sat there and struggled as I said, 'Do your homework and we' ll talk about it later.'I'm struggling because I know in my mind that it's time, but every cell of my heart is fighting it due to a mother trying to defend and hold on to her child's childhood as I see it fading fast.
 We as people have a deep desire to know the truth of things only to realize half the time we wish after knowing the truth that we wouldn't have asked or pursued it in the first place. If I were a betting person, this is exactly one of those instances Nathan will be experiencing later this evening. I know he will be bummed after our talk but I also know he is in 5th grade and I need to be grateful that it's lasted this long.  I did real well of always deflecting the question back at him, 'Well, what do YOU think, is Santa real?'  And he always came back saying he believes.  This year after I pulled the same question he shot right back and demanded, 'I want to know the truth.' For the first time the phrase:  'This is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you' finally resonated with me.  Why is the truth going to hurt me?  Because once this talk happens Christmas won't be the same for him or for me. It is yet another slap in the face of realizing how short my time is with them.  Floods of memories are filling my mind of kids in footie pajamas running down the stairs on Christmas morning with eyes big and bright, writing wish lists and mailing letters to Santa, little ones wanting to sit on Santa's lap, little hands making and leaving out cookies and milk.  Part of the magic will dim for a season. Santa, in my children's eyes will become like a Teletubby or Elmo (something cuddly, fake and commercialized) for a few years until they have their own children and resurrect the magic.  
Right now...1. I'm wishing I had about 4 more under the age of 8 to take the pain away.      2. I'm feeling extremely apologetic to my mother for wanting desperately to grow up so fast.  3.  Disturbed that I'm already posting about Christmas.
Wish me luck.  :(   
UPDATE
My conversation went like this:I sat Nathan down on the couch and asked how he would feel if he found out Santa was real.  He smiled and said he would be very happy.  I asked why.  He explained because then he would know he wasn't crazy.  He said he remembers a few years ago closing his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them there were presents everywhere.  Brynna's been telling him for awhile, 'dude, you just fell asleep.' He swears he didn't.  He really does believe it.
I asked how he would feel if the parents bring the presents.  He said he would still be happy and understand why they would do it but didn't sound quite as happy as scenario number one.I asked what he tells kids at school when they ask if he believes in Santa.  He said I just tell them, 'I don't know.'  His next statement to me was classic:  'It really doesn't matter if Santa is real or not because it's the elves that make the presents anyway.'So precious, innocent, and naive.  I almost cried and laughed at the same time.
I proceeded to tell him, 'Nathan if you want to know the truth, I will tell you right now but I want to tell you something first.  Sometimes not knowing is more fun than actually knowing. There is something about the mystery that makes things intriguing.'  I further explained to him to think of when we read our mystery books together at night; we have so much fun trying to figure out what is going on and what is going to happen.  At the end of the book, it's wonderful to know all the answers but is also a let down because then the mystery is over. The imagination has been filled by all the details by the author that don't match our own.  On the flip side, I also said the truth is also a great blessing to have because then you know exactly what you are dealing with. That clarity can also answer more questions. You don't spend your time wondering.  Again, I said it was his decision to make of knowing the truth of Santa, all he needed to tell me was when he wants that truth. 
He turned to me, hugged me and said, 'Thanks Mom, I think I'll wait awhile longer.'My heart blew out a sigh of relief...for now.LONG LIVE SANTA and childhood.