In my opinion nothing makes Christmas more special than kids. All the excitement they generate around Santa and the Reindeer and even that damn freaky elf on the shelf which is due to return in just over a month, it makes Christmas such a magical experience for them, AND us parents too.
You go to great lengths to prevent them from discovering the truth prematurely and you threaten to cut the balls off anyone that spoils it for them.
OK that last bit may be just me taking it a little too seriously but the point is I myself have taken my role of guardian of 'The Christmas Secret' very VERY seriously.
For the past 12 years we have created a whole fantasy around the big red guy, his pointy eared side kicks and the whole CIA (Christmas Intelligence Agency).
I have smacked away any doubts with the swiftest of explanations and I have dug myself in deeper and deeper all the while knowing that one day I would be exposed for a fraud.
I forced numerous cookies down my husbands throat, chewed on dozens of carrots and gagged on gallons of milk.
Like most parents I have stayed up late to ensure the presents are perfectly placed under the tree, easy to spot but looking as though they have been placed in a hurry so as not to disturb a sleeping family.
I have given death stares to the Department Store Santas who promised to bring an extravagant gift that has been thought up on the spot by a starry eyed toddler at the 11th hour and long after gifts have been purchased, wrapped and stashed.
I have gone through kilos of flour to recreate footprints and I have conned neighbours into running up and down the street ringing sleigh-bells days before Christmas to ensure the kids are frothing at the mouth at the sound of Santa doing his practise run.
I have done all the right things to extend the magic as long as possible with my oldest son, so much so that I have pretty much convinced myself of the big guys existence.
And although I knew it was coming, I knew it was inevitable - I was devastated and completely gutted when he casually informed me the other night as we were driving, that he no longer believes in Santa.
"What do you mean"? I declared with genuine shock and disbelief. "Of course he exists. Why would you even think otherwise"?
"Come on Mum. The recent acquisition of an Offshore Plastic Factory kind of gave it away" he replied. "Plus the kids at school have been telling me for ages, so I've kind of known for a while it was just you and Dad".
Shit. We had been outed!
I refrained from asking who those kids at school were in case I was unable to resist the urge to peg bags of burning dog poop at their bedroom windows and instead I sat in silence and wallowed in my disappointment.
A quiet tear escaped in honour of the reality of what was happening and I was smacked over the back of the head by a sack full of emotion. Grief for the end of an era, fear that my two little guys were now going to find out and frustration that our plastic factory explanation of the 'made in China' stickers didn't quite cut it.
I always knew the day would come but I can't help but be sad about it, how can you not be? And yet I am proud of him and the way that he handled it without a fuss and proud of his excitement at also becoming a guardian of 'The Christmas Secret' for his little brothers and every one else who continues to believe.
"It's a big responsibility Mum" he said.
"What is hun"? I enquired.
"Knowing the truth" he replied with a maturity in his voice I have never heard before.
"But I'm excited that I get to help you now make it really cool for the little boys" he added rather proudly.
I think it was that precise moment my heart exploded with relief and pride. Relief that he didn't hate me for lying to him for all these years and pride for my very grown up boy.
Gooey gushy incredibly mushy, totally embarrassing mum pride.
Are you still guarding the secret?
If your kids 'know' - how did they find out and how did they take it?