Abigail is getting to the point where she has serious doubts about Santa Claus. She doesn't believe in magic, she tells us. (I'm probably to blame for this one: Too much science and physics and Mythbusters.) I told her that's up to her, but that I believe in magic: If you've ever heard the story about how Kerri and I got together ... how could you not believe in magic? Sure, maybe not the hocus-pocus, light-a-candle and spit-in-a-cauldron type of magic, but magical nevertheless.
Here's an exchange between Kerri and Abby, from just a few hours ago, Christmas Eve 2010, during a moment alone:
Abby: "I don't believe in magic."
Kerri: "You don't?"
Abby: "No."
Kerri: "Then, what do you believe in?"
Abby: "I believe in me."
Perhaps this Christmas Abigail's channeling John Lennon. I don't know. Regardless, it was one of those moments that blew my hair back, shocked me (in a wonderful way) and made me proud. It's sad that she's already outgrowing the magical trappings of childhood and looking beyond the Lies Parents Tell Because It Makes Being A Kid Fun ... but this gives me every confidence that she's growing up self-assured. I'm also positive that, while she may be too smart for magic now, she'll rediscover it later. Magic is patient that way.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.