Kids care about more than presents at Christmas.

I have to admit that I was more excited for Christmas this year than the previous three years being a parent. This year, my son really got it...not in the 'he knows who Jesus is and what it really means' but in the guy in the red suit, eats cookies, drives a sleigh, etc. way.

Although we were on a tighter budget than usual this year, we still managed to make it big. When my son woke up, there was a shiny new 'big boy' bike and tons of little presents surrounding it. The tree was lit in the dark and half of the donuts we had to leave out instead of cookies were gone. Milk: polished off.

I laid in bed just waiting and silently begging my son to wake up and step outside of his room. Sure enough, at 6:30 he came padding toward our bedroom. He walked up, right next to my face and here's how the conversation emerged:

Son: Mommy, Santa's here.
Me: He's here right now?
Son: Mommy, Santa was here...and he brought me a bike.
Me: Oh really, well let's go see it.
Son: Come on. It's a bike! (runs out of the room)

My husband I jump out of bed (literally) and race into the living room. Our son is climbing all over the bike and going on and on about the shiny presents. But what he was most taken by was the fact that Santa didn't polish off the donuts we left out. He had three and only ate one and a half. Who would do such a thing!

Of course the bike has a horn, so it didn't take long for baby sister to wake up. And, like her brother, she went straight for the donuts, but decided to take it upon herself to finish them off for Santa.

What a perfect holiday. I didn't even care that none of the gifts were for my husband or I. Neither of us missed them. Our gifts are our children and the innocence we get to relive through them.

There are some things I just can't control.

Scenario 1: My son came out of his playroom the other day carrying half of a marshmallow gun and a water gun. He pointed both at me and said, "Just pretending mom, just pretending...but put your hands up."

Part of me wanted to laugh and part of me has horrified. I immediately began thinking of all the ways he could have learned this behavior. Was it TV or a day care buddy, his dad or another relative...did it even matter where he learned it?

In my house we've always stressed that guns are for animals only (yes, I realize this could offend some) and not for people. My son knows that when his dad gets all dressed up in camo that he's not going off to shoot at other people, but at some animal. He may not know why but he's very aware of the fact that he wants to join in some day.

In the end, I decided to go along with it. I raised my hands and swore that I did nothing wrong and that he shouldn't shoot me or take me to jail...

Scenario 2: This morning as we were heading to school, my son noticed a vehicle in the ditch. It must have slide off the road during the last few days when the weather was less than delightful. He asked why the car was there and I explained that the person must have hit some ice and slide off the road. My son then asked where the driver was and if he was dead.

You can imagine my shock, but I said no, the driver isn't dead, he must have been picked up by someone and driven home. And that he'll be back to get his car once the snow melts a little. Smart as he is...my son asked how I knew for sure that he wasn't in fact dead...

What amazes me so much here is how, at the age of 4, he can sort of grasp what it means to be dead. He knows that the person is no longer able to move, drive or speak. He just may not realize that it's permanent. Scary and yet incredibly amazing.

Playing Santa is harder than it seems.

Santa doesn't want cookies and milk. He wants donuts.

The moment I heard this from my four year old son, the warning signs should have appeared. It was the first of many conversations we've had on the subject. And with Christmas being another three weeks away, it won't be our last.

My son is in full 'I believe in Santa' mode, which I love and struggle with all at once. This is the first year I have to speak in code to my husband about gifts. I have to hide everything related to the holiday other than the tree...which my son now believes just having the tree up means that Santa is on his way TODAY. I have to buy a million different types of wrapping paper. And lock my bedroom door every time I'm in there.

The odd thing is, I'm not really complaining. It's actually kind of fun and I'm finding myself freaking out that he might find me out. Which ultimately is forcing me to become child-like. It's fun to play this game with him. And it makes me even more excited for the big day.