We went over to Beth’s dad’s house tonight for dinner and gift exchange. Beth’s dad was very generous and gave Zoe the Ipod she’s been dying for ever since her best friend showed up at school with one. She was thrilled to get it, but it also presented a problem: she’s pretty sure Santa Claus knows she wanted one. So when we got home, she sat down to write a letter to him.

This is Santa’s last hurrah in this household, I think. Zoe is eight now and we think she halfway knows already that he’s not real but is holding onto the illusion so as to hold onto her childhood. I know she’s conflicted about it still, because she’s told me very matter of factly a few times that “Santa’s not real,” but on the other hand she’s been very concerned in recent weeks about being on Santa’s Good list. She knows, but she doesn’t know.

So tonight we went through what will probably be the last observance of our Christmas Eve Santa ritual: putting out carrots for the reindeer and milk and cookies for Santa. And as I said, Zoe wrote him this note too.

I’m going to miss the Santa illusion. Reading this note and knowing it’s his last Christmas makes me a little sad.

Bye, Santa. Thanks for everything.