So dad," comes the still-tiny voice from the back seat of the car, "when Santa finally gets too old and tired and decides to retire, who will take his place?"
The question is part of the daily barrage the seven-year-old whiz kid throws my way. It is early February, the holidays are recent memories and next year’s Yuletide aspirations still occupy Madison’s thoughts.
I'm momentarily caught off guard by the question, but I quickly recover and chuckle softly to myself.
"You know how excited you get when Christmas gets near? How fun it is to see all the pretty lights and snowmen?"
"Do you remember how nice everyone is to each other?"
"And do you remember the excitement you felt on Christmas Eve, when you knew Santa would be there and there would be presents under the tree in the morning?"
"Well, we call that Christmas Spirit. And as long as there is just a little Christmas Spirit in left in the world Santa will never get too tired or too old, and he'll never retire."
It is safe to say that I am gloating. I had, I believed, carved the perfect answer from a blank slate of stone. Its fluidity and the ease with which it rolled from my tongue makes it seem the perfect answer to a difficult question.
There is no response from the back seat. But I pay no heed to the silence. I've climbed Mt. Everest and there is nothing more I need to conquer. The day is ugly outside, cold, snowy and dark at 5 pm., but inside it is positively glowing and warm. Twenty seconds or so pass and then my daughter takes a measured pull of her bow and lets fly with a beautifully aimed quill.
"Okay," she says in a drawn out voice. "So, where does God come from? I mean, if there was nothing before the universe was created and nothing outside of the universe then who created God?"
in category Life