To Believe or Not To Believe

 "That Santa stuff isn't real," the boy from across the street told my kids. 

Uh-oh. 

I was upstairs folding laundry, but I still heard the boom that would likely lead to an avalanche of eye-opening revelations (and maybe some tears). 

"Who do you think comes in your house at 3 in the morning and leaves you presents?" my 9-year-old son insisted.

"He's real, I've seen him! At the mall!" my daughter, who had just turned 7, chimed in.

"That's just a guy in a suit," the neighbor boy replied dismissively.

Proof of life

From the second floor, I called out, "Okay, that's enough!" to the kids arguing in my living room. Pretending we suddenly had to eat dinner, my husband asked the neighbor boy to leave. And we braced ourselves for what might be coming. 

My son is a very young 9. He still loves playing dinosaur fights with his stuffies, snuggles with me at bedtime while I sing the same lullaby I've sung since he was a toddler, and calls me Momma (though that may be more my doing than his). He's got a soft heart and big feelings. 

So it's no surprise to us that he still believes in Santa Claus. 

A couple of years back, there were cracks in the facade. He started to ask how Santa was able to deliver all those presents even though our fireplace is a closed gas firebox, or fly fast enough in his sleigh to cover the entire world in one night. Not wanting to lie, I turned his questions around and asked what he thought. And, being in possession of a huge and energetic imagination, he explained away his own suspicions. We left it at that, and I thought our days of belief in magic were drawing to a close. 

But the following holiday, both kids still sat on either side of Santa at the mall and told him their Christmas wishes. Then they gleefully watched the computer screen as the NORAD Santa Tracker clocked him zooming at 650 miles per second on Christmas Eve, and left him notes along with a piece of a candy cane as a present.

Notes for Santa

 

So when the boy from across the street insisted Santa wasn't real, I thought this was going to lead my son to an epiphany. Logistically, I was prepared thanks to some ideas of how to explain Santa isn't a person so much as a personification of love and wonder and giving and joy. I was ready to tell him that now that he knows, he's part of a cadre of grown-ups who are responsible for keeping that spirit going. Especially for his younger sister, for a few more years. 

But that didn't happen. 

Within a few days, my kids were back to chattering happily about what to ask Santa to bring for Christmas, and whether they've been good enough this year. On Thanksgiving morning, neither of my children questioned the tradition of Santa leaving Christmas pajamas on our doorstep before he stops by the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade for his TV appearance. 

In fact, they were ready to ask some (different) friends in the neighborhood if they had gotten pajamas from Santa too, because "Santa doesn't forget anyone."

Santa leaves jammies on his way
to the parade.

This has left me feeling torn.

On one hand, I want my children to believe in magic. From the time babies are old enough to see past their noses, everything in the world is wonderous to them. My face stays there even when I cover it up and say peek-a-boo? Wizardry! I press this lever on the refrigerator and previously unseen ice cubes fall all over the floor? Alchemy! I can balance on these two wheels and pedal all around the neighborhood by myself? Witchcraft! Everything is supernatural and amazing to children.   

I love the looks on their small faces when they see the wonder and beauty of Christmas, including Santa. He is enchanted and mysterious, living up there at the North Pole with his reindeer that can fly and pointy-eared elves that can make anything. He embodies the ideas that anything is possible, and that generosity benefits everyone. With children and adolescents feeling ever more stressed over the last few decades, who wouldn't want to find solace in an imaginary figure who brings gifts every year? Why would I want to take that happiness away from them?

On the other hand, I wonder if continuing to let my older child believe is setting him up for unrealistic expectations in the coming years. The truth is, life is hard. You don't often get exactly what you want. No one is happy always. There is no man in a red suit that will buy, wrap, and deliver all of your wishes. 

The sooner he faces those facts, the better he can learn to deal with the inevitable disappointment and disillusionment he will feel as he grows up and figures out the world. For a kid who still struggles at school when things get hard or don't go his way, I'm worried that letting him continue to believe in the fantasy will make that transition even more fraught.

For now I'm going with a wait-and-see approach. If he asks questions or demands that I tell him in no uncertain terms whether Santa is real, I will do my best to encourage him to come to his own conclusions and gently reveal the truth with hugs and a warm welcome onto the team of Those Who Know. 

If he hasn't figured it out by 16, I'll reevaluate my position. 

But for now, I'll try to enjoy the excitement and awe and innocence of childhood.