Trivial Pursuits: Perpetuating the Santa myth/magic

When Greta was a toddler, I found myself facing a condumdrum many parents never consider: Do I tell my daughter that a plump and jolly, white-bearded dude dressed in red with a North Pole postmark hops into a bottomless, space-regenerating sleigh led by flying reindeer and delivers toys to every child in the world  – all in one night?

While I cringed at the prospect of years of endorsing the fictional Father Christmas little white lie, I honestly didn’t ponder it very long. You’re only young once, there’s not enough magic in the world as it is, so bring on the Claus we did. 

Making Santa stick started getting tricky last Christmas, when Greta was 7. The obvious holes in the whole Santa story are hard to overlook and even harder to explain away – how he gets inside when our house has no chimney, for instance, or why he brings toys that say “Target Exclusive” when he has a workshop full of elves. Then there’s my personal favorite: How come Santa isn’t dead yet? 

Not only am I the absolute worst at thinking quickly on my feet, but I’m also a really, really bad liar (unless I’m playing poker). As a result, after years of fielding questions from a fairly inquisitive kiddo, “I don’t know” and “It’s okay to admit you don’t know something” have become two of my favorite escape routes. There’s also the “I don’t know – let’s Google it” variation, which tends to go over a bit better. 

Last year I made the mistake of forgetting to fill the stockings Christmas Eve. (Who does this?) When Greta pointed it out, I pretended to be confused, too. Maybe Santa forgot, or he ran out of stuffers, and you know, it seems like I did hear something the other day on the news about a run on stocking stuffers this year...hmm. (“What’s a run?”) My subsequent stealthy stocking fill attempt did not go over, either. I guess Santa’s magic doesn’t include the “Now you see it, now you don’t” trick. 

And I guess I can’t blame her. Santa defies logic, time, gravity – and no one can be that quiet and not wake up the dog. Right?

Still, I wish I were a kid again, believing in milk and cookies and naughty and nice ... circling everything you wanted in the JC Penney Christmas catalog and later finding it stashed in suitcases in your parents’ closet ... being surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and boxes on Christmas morning, looking up and seeing Dad capturing it all with the camcorder ... another home movie, and you’re the star.

Nah. Being on the receiving end is infinitely better. There’s nothing like seeing your child’s eyes light up when she opens that one special thing you picked out that she didn’t ask for, never would have dreamed of asking for, and knowing you got it right. You did your job as a parent. You brought her joy.