Reason 792 Why I Tell My Kids (frequently) that Santa is Just Pretend

Tonight I was tucking the girls into bed: Ruby was already snuggled under her covers and burrowed against her wall.  Only the top of her head, and her "baby Anna" dolly were accessible for a kiss.  I bent over her, moved her sleep cap so I could kiss her forehead, and she started crying a deep groaning cry.  My heart caught in my throat.
"Momma, I don't like being the only brown girl in my class.  I just wish (sigh)...well, Mrs H took a picture of our class, and all the dark faces don't even show up on the computer.  And all the yellow girls, you could see their faces.  And I just feel lonely.  I know my yellow friends love me, but I wish I had a brown girl in my class so we could be brown together..." Ruby has four brown boys in her small class of 22 kids, and to an outsider that amount of diversity could be considered impressive in these northern suburbs.
This topic has been coming up more often lately.  I've got a million responses when she laments being "different"...but one liners, and encouraging quips don't change the fact that Ruby is growing up in a world that most often doesn't look like her.

Santa is no exception.