In this season of generosity, my husband and I have received a most precious gift. Our ten-year-old daughter still believes in Santa Claus.
Yes, I’ve done my best to perpetuate the legend without going overboard, and to accentuate the importance of giving rather than receiving during the holiday season. Yet you parents know how magical playing Santa can be. And those of you with school age or grown children also know how quickly those Santa years fly by, and therefore how treasured each passing Christmas is.
I myself remember pressing my mother for “the truth” at the tender age of seven. After a spontaneous and prideful deduction of my own, without bitterness or disappointment, I came home from first grade and confronted her head-on. “Mom, don’t lie to me, you and dad are really Santa, right? You really buy the presents from Santa, don’t you?” She tried to dodge me but caved pretty quickly, confirmed my suspicions, and swore me to secrecy so as not to ruin it for my younger siblings.
As the oldest of four and thus the first to know about Santa, I had many years afterwards to watch my younger sisters and brother revel in the wonder of the Santa mystery and the surprises of Christmas morning. I even took my baby brother to see Santa a couple of times, and nostalgically joined him for a picture one year on the old guy’s lap. It was around that time I began to see the error of my smarty-pants ways.
As I reached adulthood, got married and had a child of my own, I vowed never to so easily deny Santa. How could I? It was more fun that I could possibly imagine.
Yet in recent years the detailed questions have come hard and fast from our daughter. Thanks to the Internet, that dynamic collective consciousness, what once was just a concept can now be proven real. I could punch up NORAD and show her the real-time satellite-image of Santa’s Christmas Eve ride. We could visit one of Santa’s many Web sites and even email the jolly old elf. Better yet, he would write back with a real letter.
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