I've been reading some interesting posts over at BlogHer about Santa. One was from a woman who is not going to tell her child that Santa is real, ever:
We’ve definitely put some thought into this decision, and I feel certain it’s the right one for our family. I think we will absolutely tell Noah the story of Santa Claus, but we just won’t tell him Santa brings him presents, comes down the chimney, eats cookies that he leaves for him or that Santa is “watching him.”
I don’t think he’ll be missing out on much because we will begin our own traditions, and he will have happy Christmases built on the values that we’ve chosen for our family.
On the other side is the woman whose kids freaked when they saw Santa in a restaurant:
But instead I saw you, in all your white-bearded, spectacled glory, enjoying a quiet meal with Mrs. Claus. In a Harley T-shirt and jeans. No matter…the kids didn’t need to see your red suit or reindeer companions to know it was you. I’m sure your celebrity status allows you little anonymity at this time of year.
The most interesting thing about these posts is how important whether or not Santa exists and whether or not their kids believe he exists is to people. I had no idea. You should go read the comments -- some people are kind of worked up over whether a complete stranger tells her kid Santa's a myth.
I had to text my parents and sister last night while thinking about this post to figure out if I ever believed in Santa Claus. (It turns out I did, and my sister remembered the exact moment I ruined her childhood by telling her he was a ruse. Sorry, Sis.) The reason I think I wondered is that my parents are Christian and very religious, and what I remember most clearly was going to church on Christmas Eve and the nativity appearing under the huge tree there every week in advent, the advent wreath, the candles. I really, really, don't remember the Santa bits.
My seven-year-old is on the edge of no longer believing in Santa. She said the other day she doesn't want to grow up, either. I think she's clinging to Santa like she clings to her stuffed animals -- growing up is tough stuff, and Santa and young-kid toys are a safety blanket of sorts for her, the easy, no-pressure part of childhood before you have peer pressure or fashion or mean girls.
Most of her friends don't believe in Santa any more and tell her that he's not real. Last year she wrote on her white board "things I believe in" and drew the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa. It made me feel wistful to see that, just like it made me wistful to start shopping in the girls section of the store instead of the toddler section, just like it makes me feel wistful to realize she knows all the words to Adele songs and has somewhere learned to dance with actual rhythm.
When she comes to me and asks, I just keep directing it back to her, asking her what she thinks. I'm a fiction writer. I make her bears talk, I make up stories about the cat texting me, and she knows I'm full of it but loves the stories, anyway. When she was little, I told her the cat ate monsters and then made up a whole picture book plot line about it, and she loved that, too. She stopped believing the cat really ate monsters but still loved the idea. But that, too, is me -- making up stories is very natural and fun for me, so I doubt she'll freak when she makes the transition from believing Santa is real to loving the idea. I doubt she'll hate me for being a liar, because "lie" and "fiction" -- oh, it's such a fine line, isn't it? Her childhood has been filled with interesting fictions (she still believes there is a Mommy Handbook -- from which I regularly quote passages -- and that I have to report to the Mommy Board if I fail to discipline her properly).
Oh, we do emphasize our celebration of Christmas from a religious perspective, as well. Though we don't have a regular church, we still celebrate the story of Christmas. She knows for Christians Christmas is the second most important religious holiday -- and she also knows a long time ago our culture started separating out the religious part from the Santa part so even people who aren't Christians celebrate Christmas, just in a different way. The mash-up of cultural and Christian holidays is very real -- Easter, same thing. Our culture tends to do that with Christian holidays way more than any other religious holidays, so it's something we confront over and over. The way we've dealt with it is to completely separate them -- there's the serious religious holiday and then the crazy American holiday, and they really have nothing to do with one another but, you know, fun! Who doesn't like painting eggs and decorating trees?
Kids are going to have to confront other kids with different belief systems their whole lives, whether it's Santa or a different religion or a different culture. Nobody parents the same way, and part of parenting is helping your child negotiate a world filled with different belief systems without fighting with everyone. Which is why I don't get why some commenters are so upset.
I love the philosophy of the Jewish woman whose family used to celebrate Christmas and now has a Christian boyfriend:
As years went on, our ginormous Christmas tree became a Chanukah bush. I never really understood that. The bush part I mean. Like a burning bush? My dad was slowly finding his Jewish roots, and we were slowly losing our Christian Christmas. If you ask my mom why we celebrated Christmas, she'll say that it was never a religious celebration but rather an opportunity to decorate. And wrap. The woman is an expert gift wrapper.
