It’s the story of the kid and the Santa jig, and the jig is up, and you are left as the grownup fool telling your kids for the past eight years that a giant fat man breaks into their house each year. If you’re already a parent of a kid older than mine, you know the sock-in-the-gut feeling of your baby’s childhood blinking away.

Today was that day.

I picked up my sweet Thing 2 from school, a rarity since returning to work. I took her out for a special treat (curry meat pie — my girl is special) and we spied friends outside. While we were chatting with them, our favorite toddler boy, Teddy said, looking at his hand-me-down pink tricycle, “Dis bike too small fo-me!” And his parents replied, “Well maybe you.should.ask.for.a.new.BIKE.from.SAN.TA!

And that was it.

She got it.

In one sentence. It was over.

She looked at me, took my hand, squeezed hard, and said, “Yeah, ‘Santa, or Mommy and Daddy.”

Stunned, I took her by the hand and walked away. I stared at my buddies with that Oh-Holy-Crap-That-Just-Didn’t-Happen eye stare. But it had happened. And there was no going back.

I tried to undo-the-undoable. I told her that our friends were trying to talk their son into asking for a bicycle from Santa instead of from their parents because bikes are expensive. And parents can’t afford bikes. And Santa helps because he can. And, you know, wink, wink, wink.

She didn’t buy it.

She rolled her eyes at me.

So I took her for a fancy haircut at a grownup hair salon to distract her.

Or maybe, to distract me.

She got a bob cut.

It made her look young.

Friends, family, school parents have had to save my butt for volunteer work, school events and personal schedules. I’ve had my tail between my legs for weeks while hours go flying by at work and at home with not.one.moment of respite. I feel terrible. I’m the one that gets it done. I don’t like this phase — the one where I have to be the one who’s ass gets saved.

Boo.

Like it or not, I’d be less efficient if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, I’d be skinner if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, I’m healthier because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’m more emotional because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’m less emotional because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’d have more time for friends, if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, the friends I have are vital and precious, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’d be less tired if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, I’m more awake and alive because I have kids.

Like it or not, I am a less creative marketer, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’m a better marketing leader, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’ve got less time for my parents, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’ve got endless respect for my parents, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’m less passionate about my career, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’m more passionate at the work I do choose, because I have kids.

Like it or not, I’d be so much more wealthy, if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, I’m more driven to be wealthy, because I have kids.

Like it or not, my life would be more free, if I didn’t have kids.

Like it or not, I’ve never known life, before I had kids.