It was my mistake, I suppose. I let the guys watch “The Polar Express” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” in the same day.

Big Guy being Big Guy, he immediately picked up on certain discrepancies, such as the scene in “Polar Express” where the elves use a giant globe-shaped GPS and a bank of television screens to monitor children then phone Santa when they spot bad behavior. In “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” the jolly old elf himself peers into a magic snowball to keep an eye out for scofflaws.

“Why are they different, Mommy? Which one is right?” he asked.

“The ‘Santa Claus’ movie is a story from a long time ago, when Santa first started. They didn’t have TVs back then. ‘Polar Express’ is from later, after TV was invented,” I explained glibly even as I cursed movie producers in 2004 for not checking the works of those in 1970. There are important issues of historical accuracy, you know.

“Sheesh,  how old is Santa anyway?”

“I don’t know. Pretty old. He was around when I was a kid. He was around when Mawmaw was a kid, too.”

“How does he look so young?” he asked, and I wanted to hug him for calling a man with a full white beard “young.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because he has such a good heart and gives to others,” I offered. There’s research somewhere to support that, isn’t there? I hope he doesn’t want me to Google it.

My impromptu performance both amazed and repulsed me. I was equal parts thrilled that I’d been able to concoct credible answers on the fly and repulsed at the way the mistruths kept mounting.

It’s a serious shift from last year, when I didn’t fabricate as much as I let misimpressions stand. Mostly, at least. This year, I’m caught in my web of lies and I can’t extricate myself.

And I dread the day when the guys figure out that, not only have I been pulling one over on them their entire lives, but I’ve also been frantically covering up the deceit. Don’t I always tell them that you won’t get in as much trouble for doing something as you will for lying about it?

I’m not sure how they’ll handle it.

Will they nod knowingly to save face and claim they’d known it all along? Or will they look up at me with sad “how could you?” eyes.

I’ll probably weep and beg forgiveness for being such a lying liar. I hope they’ll find it in their  hearts to let me off the hook as long as I deliver as many presents as Santa did.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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