Meg, the ever-thinking and slightly suspicious child, was in second grade when we had to modify the Santa story. She had had a large Christmas, while one of her friends had had a much smaller Christmas. Late Christmas Day, after making the rounds and comparing the loot, she stated with a questioning tone, "I got a lot of stuff cuz I was so good this year, right?" Without even thinking, I mumbled yes, that was true. Then I watched as she knit her little eyebrows into a perplexed, sad expression and replied "so (unnamed girl) wasn't very good, so she didn't get very much." Her concern and her critical thinking skills stopped me dead in my tracks.
I thought for a moment and then knelt down so we were at eye level; I gave her an impromptu explanation about parents having to send money to Santa which meant the size of Christmas was really contingent upon how much money parents sent. I explained that we had fewer children, and so we could probably afford to send a bit more than some of her friend's parents could--you know, a lesson on economics. She accepted that, but I think it modified her belief. I don't remember having another conversation with her about Santa, but I think when her friends started questioning, she already knew. She did write a great story that year, though, about Santa vacationing in Hawaii after Christmas because he had so much money. She illustrated it with a wonderful picture of Santa dominating a huge wave in swim trunks, a Hawaiian print shirt, and a slightly askew Santa hat.
Seth's discovery was a bit more traumatic. He is also a thinker, but he has always wanted to stay young. He was in fifth grade when we decided that we were going to Hawaii for Christmas. We were tired of spending money just to spend. Our kids had everything they wanted and needed, so rather than buy gifts we decided we would make memories. I know the kids at school had been talking about Santa for a couple of years, but Seth had consciously chosen to continue in belief. When we announced our trip plans, Seth was immediately concerned about the trip because we wouldn't be home for Christmas. He was worried about how Santa would find us. We sat him down and told him he was old enough to know the truth. We explained that rather than toys, we were gifting travel, and that he ought not to expect gifts that year.
I thought he took it well. No tears. No anger. Just simple resignation. We had a great trip and nothing more was said . . . until Easter. I had been shopping and picked up some Easter candy. When I got home, I only halfheartedly hid the treats since, I thought, we were finished with the charades. After school a day or two later, I heard him rummaging through the closet for food. I heard the Easter candy bag rustle and so I hollered, "stay out of that. It's for Easter." He walked in with the most dejected look I had ever seen and a tear was forming in the corner of his eye. He could barely get out his indignation: "so, you're telling me the Easter Bunny isn't real either?" I could barely contain laughter as I apologized for the clumsy revelation.
Santa is an interesting tradition--a tradition that some people find harmful, but one that I like. Even though the shattering of the myth is sometimes traumatic and even though Santa sometimes detracts from the celebration of Christ, I believe the myth is worth transmitting. The idea that someone has that kind of love for children, the notion that children are accountable in some small way for their behavior (even if it promotes a capitalist reward system), and the magic of the imaginary are ideals worth promoting. Perhaps that imaginative play is in some cases psychologically beneficial in childhood development. It was for me and mine. And besides that, I kind of liked my turn playing Santa in the production that is Christmas.
Written 15 December 2015
 | ||
| Santa, Mrs. Claus, and at least one Elf might be related to me! |
Nice
ReplyDelete