A good thing, too; corn leaves would have made for very abrasive toilet paper.
We finally found our way out, packed into the car, and drove away. On our way out, the kids spotted a small house (about the size of a playhouse), that sits up on a pole, so that it can be seen from the freeway. The house is adorned with Christmas lights; it serves as an advertisement for the Christmas trees that they sell at the farm there during the Christmas season.
At any rate, as we were driving out, I heard Gentry's breath catch.
"Lexis," he said, whispering in awe. "Lookit! That's Santa Claus's house!" he said.
"Oh, yeah! It is!" Lex said.
"Daddy," Gentry said, "do you know what we just saw? We saw Santa's house!"
"You did?" I asked. "You mean that little house with the Christmas Lights?"
"Yes," Gentry said. "That's Santa's house!"
"Where does he keep all the toys in there, do you think," I asked them.
They thought for a moment. "It's magic," Lex said.
"Nuh-uh!" Bubs said, a little loudly. "He keeps those in his big bag that he cawwies."
"And then he comes at Christmas and brings us our presents," Lex proclaimed excitedly. "He comes down our fireplace!" she said.
"Our fireplace," I asked? "You mean chimney. How does he fit down there, do you think?"
They were silent for a few moments. We've never really pushed the idea of a Santa with our kids, but we've not been adamant about insisting that he doesn't exist either. The conversation was shaping up into the "does-Santa-really-exist" conversation that so many parents dread. I was curious to see how traumatic the realization would be.
"If he comes down our chimney, how does he get back up it," Lex asked?
"No," Bubs said. "He doesn't come down ouw chimminee. He lives in ouw fiyapwace," he said.
"He doesn't live in our fireplace, Bubs," Lexis argued. "Check when we get home. He's not there. Maybe he lives on our roof!"
"Our roof, huh?" I asked. "We must be pretty special, don't you think, for him to choose to live on our roof."
"No-" Lex started.
"Yes he-" Gentry piped up at the same time. "Lexis! Let me talk! I wanna tell you guys somethin!"
"Well hurry then," she told him, exasperated.
"Santa Claus lives on the woof of that house at the cownfield maze! He bwings ouw pwesents down ouw fiweplace at Chwistmas. And....and....and..."
"Bubba! Are you going to finish, or are you just going to keep saying 'and' forever?" Lex interrupted.
"LEXIS!! I'm telling you a stowy! Be quiet!"
"Well, HURRY UP," she answered.
He paused for a moment. "K. I'm done"
"Good," Lex said. "Santa doesn't live at that house at the maze or on our roof. Remember, Christmas is about Jesus' birthday!"
I was so pleased! She'd come to the realization all on her own. My chest swelled; I smiled, and grabbed Shawna's hand, so thankful that our wholesome parenting was paying off.
"So what does that mean, Alexis," I asked.
"Well, it means that Santa Claus must live on JESUS' roof!"
I give up.