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Better Watch Out

“You guys! Santa’s not real!” She was recently five but had already adopted the mannerisms of an older, hipper kid – her big brother, maybe, or her shaggy indie-rock dad – wide-eyed and waving her arms at her fellow preschoolers at the snack table to make her point. “It’s just a guy in a costume. He’s not! real!”

“I have a DIFFERENT theory,” roared The Boy, age four at the time. “Santa is real!”

“Yes, it’s true,” another little girl nodded in devout agreement. “He’s real.”

I was trying to get in there with the old “Some people believe this, some people believe that” platitude, but snack time was over and the kids had moved on already, racing to the door, jockeying for a spot near the front of the line for recess.

So, instead, I took a moment to absorb my surprise that The Boy…apparently believed in Santa. Who knew?

We hadn’t done much to confirm or deny the guy’s existence. We saw Santa in books and television, same as Elmo or Bob the Builder. We’d attempted the annual Christmas photograph on Santa’s lap for a few years, until it became apparent that forcing my little guy to sit on some stranger’s lap and look happy while bright lights flashed in his face was as unpleasant for him as it was for the photographers and Santa himself.

And then there was that Santa at Mr. Black’s office holiday party, attempting to greet the children at the door as they froze in terror or lunged for safety behind their parents’ legs. Santa fared a little better when it was time to hand out the presents, until he got to the sullen tween in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Santa sized the kid up and growled “I saw Zeppelin at the Kingdome in ’77. How many times have you seen ’em?” Not so jolly, that one.

Despite my own cynicism, I was unexpectedly delighted to learn that my four-year-old boy believed in Santa. There was something heartwarming about it. He was such a stickler for facts and details – especially in those days, when his favorite bedtime stories involved ancient Egypt or the circulatory system. How sweet that somehow, at least temporarily, a cute little myth like Santa got through.

My own childhood belief in Santa brought me so much joy back in the day. I loved the notion of a real-live storybook character who, as far as you know, knows you and loves you; cheerfully haunts your world wishing you only the best. At least that’s how I imagined him.

I see a similar joy in Little Girl’s face now when Santa comes up in conversation. Her eyes shine. You can practically see the visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. Of course, the moment is usually cut short by her now six-year-old brother insisting “Santa doesn’t exist!” with such urgency, as if he’s stopping her from running into the street. I guess his own belief was pretty short-lived.

The truth is, they’re both at an agnostic stage now. The Boy has elaborate plans for a Christmas Eve stakeout with his cousin. As for Little Girl, one minute she’s parroting her brother and yelling “Santa doesn’t exist!” at a Christmas-themed episode of Caillou; the next minute she’s running to me with a worried face because “Santa won’t give you a present if you can’t fall asleep!”

I guess you can’t have Santa without the whole “ be good, for goodness sake” trip. Whatever “good” even means. As if anyone is capable of such an absolute. This never bothered me much as a child. I was pretty sure I was “good.” That is, until our first grade teacher decided to use Santa as a classroom management tool. “Santa Claus is watching!” she’d say, and we’d fall in line, fearing the dreaded lump of coal.

That was how I finally learned the truth. I went to my mom, worried that the Santa I thought I knew and loved would actually give us lumps of coal for being bad. (Until then, I guess I’d filtered that part of the story out of my Santa belief system.) My mom let me off the hook. She told me the truth.

I was relieved. And very intrigued! The whole behind-the-scenes component of Christmas was almost as exciting as the Santa story itself. Having the myth dispelled really did nothing to diminish my childhood wonder. We still had a vacation from school, family togetherness, and the Donny and Marie Christmas Special. Plenty of room left for joy!

I’ll try to remember that the next time one of my kids proudly decries Santa’s existence and my knee-jerk disappointment kicks in. Because, really, why is it so important that they believe something I know not to be true? Why is that somehow synonymous with childhood innocence?

“Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world,” argues the famous “Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus” editorial. True. But Santa or not, there’s no shortage of kindness, love, and magic in their world. Knowing their Legos and stuffed animals didn’t come from the North Pole on the condition of their “goodness” doesn’t change that.

Tags: Christmas, Santa Claus

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Comment by The Oracle on November 29, 2010 at 10:05pm: Oh, this is interesting. Thanks for the musings. In my recollection, there was no single moment when I found out the truth about Santa Claus. I think it kind of dawned on me over time, and I kind of tried to hang onto a belief in him because, even at four or five, I was a nostalgic little sap.

P.S. LOVE the still shot from A Christmas Story. Best movie ever.

Comment by mightyninjamom on November 30, 2010 at 7:25am: I love this post. My Catholic school totally used Santa as a bribery tool for good behavior. I had stopped believing in Santa around the age of six, so it didn't work on me too much. And I'm with The Oracle. Love that still shot.

I never really thought about it until reading this, but we never talked about Santa much around the kiddos. Hence, they never had anything to believe or not.

One year, we were at my parents house handing out gifts, and Know It All Sister hands Little B a gift, and says, "this one is for you from Santa!" (B was around 4) He just gave her a withering look and said, "no it's not, it's from you! I saw you use this wrapping paper last night!" I was so proud of his four year old logic, but also sort of mortified that he called my sister out on her 'deception'. But then my entire family started laughing, so it was okay. That story is staying in our oral family history.

Comment by Boring User Name on November 30, 2010 at 11:52am: We didn't have Santa at our house. But Jesus watching you non-stop can be used in much the same way.

I have a book called Parenting Beyond Belief which has a couple of nice essays on Santa. One says not to do it at all and the other suggests using it an introduction to critical thinking about religion generally.

Comment by ks on November 30, 2010 at 12:27pm: We were more or less Santa-neutral with N. He picked it up at the daycare, though, and asked me outright when he was 4. I asked him what he thought and he told me that he thought that Santa was make believe because everyone says that Santa is magic and magic isn't really real. So that was that. A is a bit more credulous and believed it last year, even after N told him it wasn't true. A just argued with him that it was. I don't know if he still believes or not.

And also, I think I might be the only person in the world who feels this way (I'm definitely the only person I know who does), but I absolutely hate that movie. I have never understood why it is supposed to be good.

Comment by DLBK on December 1, 2010 at 7:36am: We had Santa--he brought the decorated tree and all the presents. I don't know how my mom pulled it off for so many years! I was around 7-8 when I started figuring it out.
I'm a big fan of Santa, but I'm not sure how I feel about telling my child such an elaborate lie.

I also hate that movie.

Comment by Mamawho on December 1, 2010 at 8:32am: GirlWho, at 8, still ardently believes in Santa. One of her dearest friends has never believed in Santa, and they have just agreed to disagree. GirlWho thinks that his parents aren't comfortable with Santa, and that's OK. It's a very nuanced approach she takes to belief in Santa - it surprises me every year. But I think she's nearing the point where she operates on a willing suspension of disbelief. Next year, I bet.

I had the Santa myth blown for me in 2nd grade. It made me so sad. My grandmother, for not entirely noble reasons, wrote me a letter from Santa. She had unmistakable handwriting, and it was written on stationery I had bought for her the year prior. So when DaddyWho's mom tried to slip a letter from Santa into GW's stocking, I flipped. She was 5, and she would have known right away that was her grandma's writing.

Comment by The Oracle on December 1, 2010 at 11:01am: @DLBK: Yeah, I'm getting pretty uncomfortable with the lie. It started out so innocent, like, of course that's what you do. But now I've seen the Dragon's disappointment at having illusions blown and I'm not looking forward to seeing what happens with this one. I'm kind of hoping to dial down the Santa hype for Ducky.

Better Watch Out

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