I saw mommy texting Santa Claus

It's a childhood right of passage. 

Somehow, somebody lets it slip that there's no such thing as Santa Claus and little Tommy and Susie wind up in tears, their youthful illusions shattered.

At least that's what they tell me.

I never believed in the jolly chimney diver in the first place.  Neither did my two brothers.

We didn't spend Christmas Eve with our ears pressed to the windows, listening for sleigh bells. We didn't set out milk and cookies or search the floor for Santa's footprints.

In fact, we tore through our presents on Christmas Eve night, content with the knowledge that our parents put them under the tree.

Some day, before I can even remember, my mother gave it to us straight. She told us there was no such thing as Santa Claus.

I grew up, much like young Natalie Wood in the movie "Miracle on 34th Street," admiring the shopping mall Santas for who they were – just nice old men with whiskers.

Now I'm not writing this to illicit your pity. I can't say I enjoyed Christmas any less.

In fact, unlike most kids my age, I felt no obligation to be nice all year long, fearful of Santa's terrible wrath.

Though I don't believe I' suffered any ill effects of a Santa-less childhood, I have always wondered what believing in Santa Claus must be like.

And maybe, deep down, I've wanted a little revenge.

So this year, I did what only a kid who never believed in Santa could do to pay back her straight-talking mom.

I started texting her messages from Santa Claus.

I'd discovered a website called textsanta.net, which enables parents to send personalized text messages signed by Santa to their kids.

The website has various pre-written texting options – with Santa dropping insider info about the child's age or pet.

Since that wouldn't do for mom, I opted to write my own texts, putting down $5.49 for the Text Santa Gold Package.

The deal allowed me to write three personalized messages to Santa and assign the time and date of receipt.

I opted to send mom text messages on Dec. 11, 18 and 24. An additional $.99 bought me one more text on Christmas Day.

Now, Text Santa is a one-way service.  The message comes from a strange, five digit number and the recipient can't respond.

Once I paid all my fees, I got a secret tip in my email confirmation.

If a person has access to the recipient's cell phone, he or she can save the five-digit number in the phone's contacts under the name "Santa Claus."

That way, the message seems to come from the big man himself.

So I had my mission.  I purloined my mom's cell phone from her purse, typed in the info and waited patiently.

My mom is a pre-K teacher and occasionally texts me at nap time, when the kiddies are down for the count.

On Dec. 11, she rang my office line instead.

"Santa Claus just texted me!" she said. And then, accusingly, "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied coolly. "What did it say?"

Mom retrieved the message from her inbox.

"Little Mary, I hear u've been nice/nasty this year. I will have 2 think about which list 2 put u on. I'll be watching u this week, so be sweet!  Luv, Santa."

To throw mom off the trail, I'd intentionally used abbreviated texting language, which I never do in real life. (We writers have to have some minimal standards.)

"I know it's you," mom repeated. "But it didn't come from 'Despina' like it normally does. It came from 'Santa Claus,'" she said, mystified.

Aha, I thought. I got her, I just had to play it cool for the next few weeks.

 Right on schedule, the texts arrived. On Dec. 18, at noon, mom got her second message.

"Little Mary, did I see u being a little princess? U better shape up if u want presents under the tree."

Now, as fate would have it, this text came after an early morning meltdown, in which mom threw a tantrum about a missing Christmas tree stand. I couldn't have timed it better.

The text also included a P.S. "Be especially nice to Despina. She's a good girl."

Everything seemed to be going smoothly during the second week.

Mom suspected, but could not prove, that I was texting her under a Santa pseudonym. I continued to deny any involvement.

And then, mom went where I never suspected she would - to her contact list to retrieve a phone number.

Mom is new to cell phones, so I thought the chances of her discovering Santa Claus amid her few contacts was slim.

"Santa Claus is in my address book!"  she declared one afternoon, to my horror. "How'd he get in there?"

Miraculously, she didn’t suspect me.  Cell phone novice that she is, she decided that contacts were saved automatically when someone calls.

On Christmas Eve night, mom got her North Pole reprieve.

"Little Mary, Mrs. Claus said all girls are princesses. She put u on the nice list. Lucky break! I'll arrive tonight.  Luv, Santa"

I was sitting by her on the couch when this message came through, so she knew I hadn't texted her.

"You got someone else to do it," she concluded, but still she wondered.

The final message arrived at noon on Christmas day.

"Merry Christmas, Little Mary! U may be naughty some times but u're still my sweetie! Luv Santa."

I escaped the holiday season undetected. Mom never did put the whole thing together. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the special attention from Santa Claus.

But Christmas is over, and we must all face that harsh yuletide truth.

Mom, it wasn't Santa texting you. It was me.

There is no such thing as Santa Claus.