Why do we think that we have to tell our children THE TRUTH about Santa? Why does it matter if they continue in their wonder and happiness? What makes it so important to burst that bubble of childhood by X age? Who decides what X age is?
I've been thinking a lot about this lately (tis the season!) and I just don't get it. I believed in Santa until I was 10. That Christmas, Santa brought me a spinning wheel and I KNEW my parents couldn't afford that. I would have continued believing for much longer, except I was getting in fights about it at school and my Mom told me. And then I told my sister. Because I'm an asshole. The fact that my parents "lied to me" for years has never had any impact on my trust in them or my relationship with them. I find that argument completely illogical.
Makayla just turned 12. She absolutely believes. I know that she has plenty of friends who don't, but I guess kids are just nicer now, because none of them have ruined it for her. I hope it continues. Eventually, I expect that she'll figure it out and ask me about it and I'll tell her the truth.
I love being Santa. I love finding the things that will prolong their belief in the magic. I love watching their looks of wonder every Christmas when they see the things Santa brought.
I'm an atheist. I see no difference in believing that there is an all knowing god who loves you, but also might send you to hell if you're an asshole, and the belief that an all knowing magical man loves you and brings you presents but also might give you coal if you're an asshole. I recognize that most people will be offended by the comparison, but I don't really care. If believing in a god brings you comfort and joy, believe. Kids grow up too fast as it is- is there really anything wrong with letting them hang on to their childhood a few more years?
