The deal with Santa Claus
When I was a child, my parents never introduced Santa Claus to my sister or me. We went shopping with my parents during December, so the source of people’s presents was perfectly clear. As the gifts were purchased, they were wrapped and placed under the tree throughout the month, and it was exciting to see the bounty of packages build up. Stockings were our one concession to popular Christmas lore, and we received things like travel-sized lotion, Chapstick, and floss in ours. This mythical Santa Claus was more of an “other people” concept; my sister and I simply accepted that other kids and other parents told each other this story, even if we didn’t do the same at our house, kind of like eating Lucky Charms. Mom warned us not to broach the subject of Santa Claus at school, lest we interfere with this familial conversation, so we didn’t let it slip that we didn’t believe in Santa Claus.
As an adult, the perpetuating story of Santa Claus still mystifies me. When I went to my first Thanksgiving with JG, I unknowingly opened a can of worms with the college-aged cousins by asking, “So, what’s the deal with Santa Claus? Is he a fairy, or what?”
“He’s not a fairy!”
“He’s a magical person!”
“Haven’t you ever seen The Santa Clause?”
“You were such a deprived child!”
Whoa.
Despite wild gesticulation, passionate rhetoric, and high volume, I was unable to grasp the childlike wonder that people associate with a belief in Santa Claus. Because I had never bought in, I was branded a cynic. The idea that Santa would watch over kids and mark down wrongs and rights was downright creepy, and no one seemed to mind that the North Pole has no viable landmass for a factory. Isn’t it at least understandable that an overweight, sweatshop-owning, speed-limit-breaking, cookie-stealing trespasser is hardly a comforting image, regardless of the quantity or quality of presents? Granted, I have a certain bias against breaking and entering because our house was burglarized when I was four, but still…
Outside of the “magic of Santa Claus” — which I interpret to mean breaking the sound barrier in a non-FTA-approved vehicle — my greatest conundrum regarding Santa Claus is that adults continue to insist on his existence among each other. My particular confusion excludes any type of child-storytelling, though that is a mystery on its own. What is it about Santa Claus that provokes twenty-year-old cousins to stand up, shake their fists, and cite Disney movies as proof of their beliefs? What is it that makes me have to thank Santa Claus when I know that the gift was from my mother-in-law, despite what the gift tag says? Is it an effort to recapture some idyllic time of innocence when “magical people” in sleighs were possible? Or is Santa Claus simply something to debate, like the echoes in “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” or how exactly Frosty could ever come “back again someday”?
Frankly, my world was less complicated before I contemplated the existence of Santa Claus, thank you very much.
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Santa was fun to believe in as a kid, and I fondly remember going to bed many a Christmas Eve with my eyes on the window just waiting for that little red glow of Rudolph’s nose to appear in the sky, always worrying that he’d fly in from the other side of the house so I’d have no chance of spotting him. (In fact, I’m pretty sure I was far more enamored with the idea of Rudolph than I ever was with Santa.) But when I learned it was really just my parents, it was no big deal. And while “Elf” is one of my favorite Christmas movies ever, I don’t actually think there’s a huge crisis about adults not believing in Santa Claus. I mean, if all the adults believed in Santa, then nobody would be doing Santa’s work and buying the kids’ presents. And that would be no good for anyone.
We still sometimes get presents from “Santa,” but it’s no problem when I immediately turn to my parents to say “thank you.” And Ben may also have a gift with Santa’s name in the “from” line. But that’s mostly just because it’s funny to us — especially when people come over and wonder aloud how Santa managed to get that one delivered so early.
Right, that’s a loophole in the Santa thing. If everyone bought in, then wouldn’t Santa’s existence come into question when no presents materialized?
While I’m no Santa-nazi, I like the anonymous quality of gifts from Santa. Bear with the cheesiness here for a second. I like being able to give in the name of Santa. Even if as adults we know the true source of our gifts, it’s nice to have Santa. I think Santa embodies the selflessness and goodwill that is the Spirit of the Season. With the idea of Santa, you have a built in convention for not taking the credit yourself. In theory, it gives us all a chance to give with no thought of reward.
But the rest of the mumbo-jumbo? I can see how it’s a little weird if you didn’t grow up with it.
See, in my eyes, either Santa is legalistic and punitive or a cop-out. The story goes that he gives gifts/coal to reward or punish behavior, rather than an all-encompassing, unconditional gift, but it seems like everyone gets gifts regardless of behavior. Shouldn’t there be more coal going around?
But, I can see how what you’re saying would work in theory. I would just rather thank the giver, not as a matter of credit, but more out of reasonable gratitude and courtesy, if that makes sense.
We believed in Santa, and I remember believing very intensely until I was school aged. However, my parents were not the “it’s all about Santa” types… it was just one fun component of the holiday. So, I, too, am a little baffled at the fervent love for Santa AND the efforts that many parents make to ensure that their kids continue to believe in Santa for as long as possible.
After all, Santa is just an idea! Although I found out “the truth” when I was 7 or 8, I continued to play along. We still get gifts in our stockings!
I suspect, in those parents’ case, it’s a matter of preserving this particular aspect of childhood, but I think it’s one of those things that gets worse the longer it continues. I mean, how embarrassing would it be to be 14 and find out that there was no Santa Claus?
I don’t think I ever believed in Santa. I remember asking my mom a million questions about how it was possible for one man to go to every single house in the whole wide world in one night. “magic” just didn’t cut it for me. I wanted to know how he went that fast, how his reindeer flew, how he fit all the presents in the sled, and how he watched everyone all year.
A cynic from birth
I know what you mean. I heard on the news that Santa would have to go to almost 400 houses per second to make all the deliveries, which is just ridiculous, even with that blanket “magic” excuse.
I remember distinctly the day my mother finally admitted there was no Santa. It was devestating. All the magic was gone from my favorite day.
I have since found there is still a little bit of magic left in the ole holiday, but I sure do miss those days.
When my own kids were going through the same pangs, they kept asking me questions like, “Johnny doesn’t believe in Santa and he still gets presents. How come?” I never really felt comfortable with the out-right lie of “OF COURSE THERE’S A SANTA!!!” so I used to tell them Santa only brings presents to the children who believe in him. Johnny’s parents must buy his presents now. And when you stop believing, I’ll take over for Santa. That story lasted me a long time, and I’m glad. My kids enjoyed the magic of Christmas a lot longer than you cynics
See, why does Christmas have to be magical? Birthdays aren’t magical and we’re all okay with that.
I think it’s the idyllic time of innocence. I used to believe in Santa and I, like Audrey, remember staring out the window looking for Mr. Claus and his reindeer. One year I SWEAR I saw him. Even though my sister and I are grown, we still have gifts under the tree from Santa…actually they don’t say from Santa or from my parents…it’s kind of like they are from both. It used to be that the gifts like clothing that might need to be returned were from my parents and toys were from Santa.
When I found out Santa wasn’t real, I was a little sad, but I was able to pretend for my younger sister’s sake, which was cool.
I will want my kids to believe for as long as humanly possible! I’m no cynic though.
I prefer “inquisitive” to “cynical” – yes?
Santa was a very magical part of my childhood Christmases. I actually believed in Santa Claus until I was about 10 years old. My dad broke the big news to me when I asked him about it, but he also told me a very lovely story about St. Nicholas which I still think of every year at Christmas.
Like Audrey, we still get and give “Santa” gifts, but it’s all in the spirit of the season. I have met adults, though, that are vehement in their belief in Santa. And, well, it’s just kind of weird…
Yeah, I find it pretty off-putting. It’s like, I don’t want to break it to them, you know?
I’ve been following the links to these Santa Clause posts throughout the different blogs I’ve been reading and I wanted to thank you for sharing your experience. We plan on doing the same thing with our (future) kids and it’s wonderful to hear the experiences that other children/parents have had. Thanks for sharing!