Found myself at the mall last week. Shocking, I know.
Anyway, halfway between the Coach store and Borders, I questioned my son about Santa Claus. (He’s been flirting with the age of disbelief since the Easter bunny blew it last year.)
Besides, sixth grade tends to deliver a beat-down on the innocence of youth. But the trick is to find out his take without steering the conversation one way or another.
“So, Miles,” I asked. “I don’t need to talk to you about Santa Claus this year, do I?”
“No, Dad,” he said, smiling up at me. “But you might want to talk to Jasmine.”
Suddenly worried I had to have the same conversation with his older sister, I asked him why.
“Because I don’t think she believes in Santa anymore,” he suggested, obviously concerned.
Guess I’ll try to break it to him next year.
But it reminded me how many of us are counting on a Christmas miracle of our own when it comes to health reform. Whether it’s the lawsuits winding their way through the courts, the states trying to assert their sovereignty or the midterm political power shift, so many of us are convinced we’ll be saved.
And I’m here to tell you that any relief in the courts is years away (at best), the states are a bigger financial mess than the feds and trusting any politician to keep a promise is more naïve than a 10-year-old crawling up on Santa’s lap.