Emma and I had "the talk" this morning...

The Santa talk, that is.

She was supposed to be getting ready for school, but instead was distracted by reading her sister's diary.

Guess what she read? I'll paraphrase for you...

"Emma just asked me if I believe in Santa. I learned the truth when I was 8. She's 9 now and still hasn't figured out that Santa isn't real."

Thanks a lot, Sister.

So Emma comes in to my bathroom where I was curling my hair and asks me if what she read was true. Is Santa make-believe? There was no getting around it this time. The past couple Christmas' I've been vague enough with her questions that she still believed. This morning, I had to spill the beans.

I told her that Daddy and I were Santa and that Santa at the North Pole was a myth. She was completely confused. I was actually really impressed with her questions.

"I've mailed my letters to Santa before and they're never come back. What happened to them?" I only pretended to mail them and really have all of them in our fire safe box so you can look at them someday.

"What if Santa's really at the North Pole? What if he's invisible?" People have been to the North Pole. He's just not there.

"What about his handwriting on our presents?" That was me and Daddy being tricky.

She got off my bed where we were holding hands and talking. She very seriously handed me the aforementioned diary and walked away, her head hanging down.

I think I actually felt a piece break off of my heart.