On Santa

artwork by the talented Mary Engelbreit

With Christmas season in full swing, there are lots of Santa photos, Elf on the Shelf shenanigans and other fun revelry  making the rounds.  I love this time of year.  It’s my favorite holiday and I’m always sad when December 26 rolls around that it’s over ‘til next year.

Know what I don’t love, though?  The bickering about traditions.  People warning about the psychological damage your child will have if you tell them Santa is real.  Other people harping that you’re no fun because your kids don’t believe Santa is real.

The truth is…your kids may or may not be alright but it won’t be because of Santa.  Or Elf on the Shelf.  Or any other number of fairly innocuous and meaningless distractions.

I’ve been asked if I believed in Santa as a child.  I don’t ever remember believing in Santa as an actual person who made lists, checked them twice and decided whether I was naughty or nice.  At the same time, I put out cookies, milk and a carrot every year for Santa and Rudolph.  I knew my Dad actually ate them even though I never saw my Dad eat or drink any of “Santa’s” treats.  Somehow, I just knew.

I wasn’t worried about whether Santa thought I was nice or not because I knew the biggest factor in what I got for Christmas was our finances. I was also much more worried about what my parents would do to me if I was naughty and not nice so Santa wasn't much of a threat.

When Brett and I had kids, I didn’t give the whole Santa situation much thought.  I thought we’d see Santa at the mall, take pictures, enjoy the CBS Christmas shows and call it a year.  Brett was adamant that we have Santa in the more traditional sense.

Fine.

So “Santa” brought gifts, we put out reindeer food (thanks, Christin!), left cookies and milk and went on about our business.  We’ve been, at best, a lukewarm Santa family with Dad doing most of the Santa talk while Mom politely nods and smiles.

Last year Madeleine asked me if I would tell her the truth if she asked me something.  Seeing this as an awesome opportunity to let her know that she can and should absolutely ask me anything and know she’ll get the truth, I quickly gave an emphatic YES.

She asked if the tooth fairy was real.  “Do you really want to know?”  Yep, she did.  So I told her the truth.  She asked if she could still have the money.  This kid knows what really matters to her.

About 15 minutes later, she said she didn’t really think Santa was real and would I be honest.  Again, I asked if she really wanted to know.  Yep.  So I told her the truth and talked about St. Nicholas and the fun of make believe and traditions.  Of course I followed it up with “Don’t say anything to any other kids! No need to ruin their fun.”

I was frankly relieved.  I’m not opposed to Santa but it never felt natural or all that fun to me.

As an avid reader, I think there are all sorts of beautiful and magical ideas and thoughts that are fun to think about even if you know they aren’t real.  Madeleine loves fairy books. Yet she knows they aren’t real.  The fact that she knows they aren’t real doesn’t seem to in any way diminish her enjoyment as she reads about their fairy adventures, boats made of leaves and pixie dust that helps them fly.

We still love watching Santa movies.  We’ll probably put out milk and cookies (in our house, Mom does the eating though) and will still creep outside in our jammies to spread reindeer food in the yard.  And we’ll love every minute of it.