Every now and then, the girls have actual conversations while we're cruising down the road, my favorite among them being "What are you going to be when you grow up?"

Safe means that you are being your best self and living the life you've imagined even in the face of uncertainty. It means that you are being kind and brave -- to yourself and to others -- even if you are afraid. Even when you don't know what's going to happen next.

Eddie had been saying, "San-ta! San-ta!" all week, but now that he was face-to-face with the man, he just sat there and said nothing. He didn't look particularly happy, and yet he didn't look particularly sad or frightened. He simply sat there as if Santa's lap was a chair like any other.

He is not someone who lives at the North Pole, makes toys, drinks hot cocoa and hangs out with elves, flying reindeer and Mrs. Claus. But he is real.

Those children. How can this have happened? How can this be real?

Sunday night, a group of parents in my son's first grade class began emailing one another to ask if other families had decided to tell their children what happened in Newtown. Parents were worried that if they didn't tell their child, their child would hear about the tragedy at school from kids.

Instantly, every child scurried to the sliding glass doors at the back of the house, pushing their frosting-covered faces to the windows -- desperately trying to see into the darkness beyond.

The snow reflected not only the moonlight, but strings of icicle lights. While I admired the fleeting beauty in my neighborhood, my son was contemplating the flip side of an age-old childhood quandary: "How will Santa know not to come here?"

It's easy to decide which magical lies you'll introduce to your kids. What's tough is keeping up with those lies, especially the ones that add the all-important magic factor to Christmastime.