Thief....

I admit it. Today I stole something. I actually stole something that belonged to my child and have no intention of giving it back anytime soon. It was meant for someone else, but I couldn't let her give it away. I kept it for myself. I kept it so that she could look back at it in years to come.

Last night, Katherine wrote a letter to Santa. She put so much time, energy and thoughtfulness into what she wanted to say that I just couldn't toss it in the mailbox with the rest of my Christmas cards this morning. She carefully dictated to me everything she wanted to tell the Big Guy and then copied it down in her best handwriting. It just warmed my heart. It wasn't the typical "letter to Santa" telling him what a good girl she'd been all year and then asking for a few gifts. It wasn't that at all. She was just writing to tell him Merry Christmas. She wanted to wish him a great year. She wanted to know how the reindeer and Mrs. Clause were doing. It was so sweet, so incredibly precious, so absolutely innocent. So selfless. That 's my girl. That's my little Katherine. I kept the letter because I wanted her to be able to read her own words someday, to relieve the innocence she now possesses, and remember how it feels to believe in the magic of the season. I didn't just steal it for me. I stole it for her.