Deck the Halls with boughs of holly. Tis the season to lie, hide, obfuscate and tap dance in front of the children like you're Dana Perino discussing waterboarding with the Helen Thomas.
Yes, I'm talking about Santa.
Here on Liberal Mountain, we have kids of all ages, from the teen who insists on helping *be* Santa (17), to the baby who doesn't notice (SP, 21 months), to the true believer (Rosie, at 3), to the boy, 8, who informed me very seriously that he's taking Pascal's wager to the North Pole: "Some of my friends say there's no Santa, but I believe in him, because if I didn't, who would bring me presents?" Sensible chap, that.
But it raises the question: I always try to tell my kids the truth (they find out anyway), yet this is a lie I willingly ask them to believe. Why? Don't I want credit for being the coolest, most thoughtful mom? (The boy's big gift this year: a Nintendo DS.) Don't I want them to understand that when finances are constrained, we need to be careful? Well, sure. But I find myself buying into the lie, invested in it in ways I would not have thought possible.
What about you? How does Santa fare at your place?
6 comments:
I've often wondered what I would do as a parent regarding religion and Santa-type stuff, since hubby and I are technically of two different faiths. I think it's a tough call.
I don't see the utility in the Santa myth myself, but being Jewish, I might not be the best person to weigh in.
Nice new blog!
Santa doesn't come round my place, any more. Kind of like the milk train in that Williams fellow's play.
I'm good with it, because I suck at lying.
I remember when the kid found a bong in my closet on September 11th (yeah, that one) when she was snooping for birthday presents. I made a decision to tell her the truth, that I smoked weed, and that I wasn't going to stop until I decided to stop, whether she liked it or not. Well, she didn't like it, but she did come to accept it, and really, I didn't, and especially now, don't smoke all that often.
Same theory, though. Tell the truth to your kids, because the more lies you tell, the more muddled reality becomes.
Happy Holidays.
Halfhalfdan is 2 1/2, and this the first Christmas where she fully understands what's supposed to be happening. She loves the idea of Santa Claus and the reindeer and the elves and all that jazz, so I don't mind so much the figurative truthiness of the mythology.
What bothers me more is the creepy "Santa Claus is watching you" bit. She's getting her dollhouse regardless, so I feel like I'm making her dance by shooting blanks at her feet (but the threats do seem to work). I want her to learn to pick up her toys on principle, not because there's some obsessed freak on the other end of a cosmic panopticon. But I tell myself I'm just projecting, and she doesn't really seem to understand that part anyway.
--Halfdan
We haven't been pushing Santa Claus. I figure culture will do that for him. It's tough to explain to a three year old that society is lying to him in a way that is easy to grasp.
Three little words that I've used to ease my way into many a challenging topic are, "Some people believe..."
Then, the children can tell me what they believe. And if relevant, I can tell them what I believe.
As a single parent from the beginning, Santa didn't get much mention in our house--there was no one else here to step in when I felt tongue-tied in a lie, or cover me if I started to smirk. When my older daughter started school, and started hearing other kids' versions of the holiday, I let her take the lead in Santa talk.
This year, with a 5yo & 7yo, they're very excited about the presents, but there's more talk of 'Santa-Grandma' and 'Santa-Grampa,' whose very large brown-paper-wrapped boxes arrive in the mail each year, and are placed under the tree. On christmas eve, when the girls are asleep, I get to open the boxes and put the sparkly wrapped packages under the tree. And that is a gift for me--to feel like my mom and dad are here with us, celebrating.
--whiskey girl (aka ina)
It depends. My husband grew up believing in Santa, so did his first wife; so my two stepsons were raised believing in Santa.
I grew up not believing in Santa, and could not ask my children to do so. It felt like lying. I have no memories of childhood Christmases entangled with the thoughts of magic, Santa, reindeer, elves, etc., so I did not feel my children would miss it. My husband was sad, but went along with it.
Some kids have been utterly crushed finding out Santa is fake, others figure it out on their own. My niece tells the story of having all her magical icons die in one day.
She came home to ask her mother if what the other kids were saying was true, that Santa was not real. Her mother, realizing that it was time, said yes, she and her dad were actually Santa. My niece burst into tears and ran to her room.
The door opened again. "The Easter Bunny?" Her mother nodded. Tears and the door slammed.
The door opened again. "The Tooth Fairy?"
Everything died that day, yet she now has two children... who believe in Santa. It's part of her tradition.
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