The boy got that Christmas equals going to Papa and Grandma's house. It means going to the store to suprise Grandma while working. It means, well, presents. I have no guilt in letting him believe that Santa exists. I help that belief along. I don't think that makes me a bad parent. He'll outgrow this soon enough. We don't get enough happy moments with him as it is. We'll take what we can get thank you. We did the whole she-bang Monday night since neither of us had Wed off. We had to drive home Tuesday and that was a crappy loverly experience. The children did not want to go to bed Sunday night so we had to get creative. Ok, creative may be a stretch but with these kids creative can mean eating cheerios with pretzel stick chopsticks. It doesn't take much. The husband got them into the bedroom and as soon as the door shut, my dad and I ran all over getting the presents out of hiding spots. We rang the Christmas Bells by the front door and I yelled for them to co