People go to such lengths to keep the Santa myth alive! Kenneth Rapoza, writing at Salon, details the lies he spins to preserve the magic for his children:
We send letters to the Santa Claus Main Post Office in the Arctic Circle in Lapland, Finland. A real place. We even got letters back from them two years ago.
That tradition began after my daughter, at 5, discovered in school that the North Pole had no land mass and didn’t support life, except for an occasional polar bear in the winter months. I pointed out that Lapland was a hot spot for actual Santa activity and told her that the North Pole was just one of many Santa stories: not real. It was a nice recovery, but year after year, it’s getting harder to trick her.
What she doesn’t get is the logistics. How can Santa deliver toys around the world in one night? It’s not one night. It’s two because of world time zones and dates, plus the story that Santa flies through the sky on reindeer is just a story. Years ago, he delivered toys in his hometown by sled, pulled by reindeer. But Santa has a big staff now. The Santas you see, including those in the fake beards who are trying to dress like Santa, represent Santa in other cities and towns and — upon receiving your letters to Santa — fill in your wish list with small presents that Santa makes. This is reality, dear. Santa may not be as magical as you think. But don’t ruin those stories for others, I say. She’s cool with it.
Maybe his kids are in for a gentle landing. Maybe it’ll be more like a brutal crash, with reindeer blood and tears despoiling the winter wonderlandscape. That’s sort of how it went for my ten-year-old nephew this year. Everyone had assumed he was in don’t ask, don’t tell mode for fear of losing the loot. But when his seven-year-old sister learned the truth and immediately spilled the beans to him, there were histrionics. I wasn’t there, but I hear it involved oceans of tears and at least a half-hour in the fetal position. He’s fine now, but to judge from Salon’s comment section, there are adults walking this earth who still suffer the aftershock of disillusionment.
My mom has long said she hated lying to us kids about anything, even Santa and the Easter Bunny. I shared her qualms (even though I hadn’t been terribly traumatized, myself) and so I vowed to keep the lies to an absolute minimum. Yes, Santa comes to our house, but their dad and I never told the kids a lie when their budding scientific minds began to deconstruct the Santa myth .
The Bear, age five: How does Santa get into houses without a chimney?
Me: I don’t know. What do you think?
Bear: I bet he uses the door.
Not long thereafter, the Bear determined that the Easter Bunny couldn’t be a real rabbit; he had to be a person. A few days later, he announced, “And I know who he is! It’s Santa Claus in a bunny suit!”
By the time the Bear solved the puzzle, he had a lot of pieces in place: the impossibility of making all those deliveries in one night, the absurdity of flying reindeer, the fact that all the elves’ handiwork was “made in China,” the presence of familiar handwriting and (oops) wrapping paper on Santa gifts, and the small can of blue paint in our garage that perfectly matched the base of the fish tank Santa brought him. The Bear was proud to have done the detective work and thrilled to guard the magic for his little brother. He was a perfect co-conspirator; not once did he let the secret slip.
Over the past year, the Tiger – now seven – would ask occasionally whether Santa or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy was real. I’d always counter, “What do you think?” He would respond, “I think he’s real.”
Earlier this month, he raised the question again:
Tiger: Is Santa real?
Me: What do you think?
Tiger: I think he’s not real.
Me: Why? What made you decide that?
Tiger: Because magic is not real.
Me (with a slight pang – knowing that when magic dies, the whole world is disenchanted): What would you think if you knew it’s me and your dad who are Santa?
Tiger: That would be nice!
I couldn’t have wished for a softer landing. In general, my parenting is pretty imperfect, so I’m reluctant to claim any special wisdom here, either. But if you’ve got young sprogs on Santa’s delivery route, it might be worth trying our approach. Let them decide what they want to believe and how much of the myth to question. Follow their lead. (Hmm, that’s starting to sound like my philosophy on sex ed, too!)
I’m curious how other parents handle this, as well as what went right or wrong in your own falling away from a world enchanted.
Happy holidays to all, whatever you celebrate or believe!
Illustrations are a few of the cookies that my family and I made during the last run of snow days – photos by me, Sungold.
Patron cat of Kittywampus (1985-2001)
Lovely post. Gotta say, my 10-year-old has been the perfect foil in preserving the “magic of Santa” for our youngest, too, for at least the last 3 years. When I am railing on about superstition, magic, ghosts, etc. I usually finish by saying that its good to believe in the spirit behind, say, Santa. (Even I wouldn’t want a world so sterile.) Giving, generosity, etc. But I still you should say play it safe on the tooth fairy, cautioning against sleeping with your head under the pillow as she’ll come and take all your teeth out!!!!
You know if I used that line about the Tooth Fairy with the Bear, he would never sleep again!
And anyway, don’t you believe in the Loch Ness monster? No true Scotsman would deny him.
I’ve seen Nessie you know! Or was it the neurotoxins????
My husband’s family is full of conservative evangelical Christians who discouraged or outright banned Santa as a distraction from the real reason for the season. My MIL recounts that when she was growing up in a small town in Nebraska, Santa would visit the town in mid-December in a show at the town movie theater. Movies, of course, were also forbidden, and she remembers walking down Main Street, past the theater, during the show and feeling such terrible, terrible temptation, countered by the fear of the fires of hell.
She herself would not have minded having Santa for her kids, seeing it as harmless fun, but didn’t really know how to construct the whole thing and felt weird about lying to her kids.
Also, they follow Scandinavian tradition and open all their presents on Christmas Eve (after the smorgasbord), which makes the logistics of a Santa visit hard to pull off.
But … they do have stockings on Christmas morning, and my nieces do believe in Santa. Relatives supply the evening gifts and Santa supplies the stocking stuffers. My son has always known there is no Santa, but the pull of the magic is so strong that on Christmas Eve, he was right there with his cousins – opening up the grate around the fireplace to let Santa in, putting out the cookies and milk, etc.
(Last year, he asked me what the blessing on Santa Claus is. “I know it starts Baruch ata Adonai melech ha olam, but what comes next?”)
I’ve heard that a lot of conservative Christians disapprove of Santa because once you stop believing in him, it’s too easy to question all the other supernatural forces. We made our annual trip to church on Christmas Eve, and the Tiger spent some time debunking the angels that were on the front of the bulletin. “They’re magic so they can’t be real!” Then he was bored for a very long time. Then he topped off the evening by spilling hot wax on his finger during the candlelight portion of the service. So much for “Silent Night.” He nearly howled.
All that is to say that I guess fundamentalists are wise to avoid the slippery slope of doubt in whatever ways they can, if they mean to indoctrinate their children into their own beliefs.
Christmas Eve gift-opening isn’t much of an impediment to Santa. When I was a child, we opened gift then because my dad’s birthday is on Christmas Day. Any loot that appeared overnight was attributed to Santa.
I love that your son is intent on blessing Santa in his own way!
What a sweet story.