Initially, I was opposed to introducing the idea of Santa Claus to my children. It seemed unkind to build them up over a concept destined to lead to disappointment. However, I eventually relented, continuing the myth for yet another generation. This wasn’t the first time I set aside my instincts in favor of external expectations, but it’s one I still look back on with a bit of regret.
There are certain facets of parenting that you think you will navigate effortlessly, principles you assume you’ll never compromise. I believed my partner and I would see eye to eye on this issue, but he firmly insisted that Santa contributed to the charm of Christmas, especially in a non-religious family like ours. Hoping for support, I sought my sister’s opinion—she is a practical elementary school teacher—only to be asked if I intended to raise my children in an environment devoid of wonder and imagination. Ouch.
It’s a strange experience to deceive your children. While I don’t advocate for laying bare every truth before they’re ready to hear it, aren’t we constantly telling them that honesty is paramount? Yet, we spin narratives about fairies with a penchant for teeth and all-knowing old men who sneak into our homes to deliver gifts—while fully aware that, eventually, they will discover the truth, and it will wound them (perhaps only slightly).
My eldest child was one of those who welcomed magic in all its forms. Fairies, the Great Pumpkin, the Easter Bunny, and Hogwarts staff were not mere figments; they were cherished companions in her life. It came as no surprise that she held onto her belief in Santa Claus long after her classmates—and even her younger sister—had moved on.
Her peers had accepted the truth about Santa. Perhaps older siblings had spilled the beans or they realized that fictional characters from books and television were too fantastic to be real. Yet, my daughter believed with the intensity of a child whose earlier notions had already been challenged. She had endured leaving her first home and transitioning between the residences of her divorced parents. She clung to the hope that some good things could endure.
I did my utmost to maintain the illusion. My only real compromise was to sidestep Santa himself, crediting his wife instead, ensuring each child received at least one gift from Mrs. Claus. I carefully wrote the tag with my non-dominant hand to disguise my handwriting. I began to understand why parents keep the myth alive; it’s somewhat entertaining to deceive your kids, though it still doesn’t sit right with me.
One day, my precious child looked up at me and asked that fateful question: “Is Santa real?” I knew I had to be honest, but in a moment of self-preservation, I resorted to the familiar tactic many parents use: I equivocated.
“Well, there’s not literally a man who flies around delivering presents. Santa embodies the spirit of Christmas, representing love and joy. He’s more of a concept than a tangible being.” Or something along those lines. I couldn’t bring myself to state the blunt truth: “The man you adore? Not real. Sorry for the confusion!” That truth would come to her at some point in her romantic life—why shatter her dreams at the age of ten?
Years have passed, and she’s still not entirely over it. Now a somewhat jaded young adult, she vows not to repeat my mistake with her own future children. She appreciates all the festive elements of Christmas (and other holidays; her Halloween bashes are legendary) but is committed to celebrating the magic without weaving in a fantasy that may ultimately end in disappointment.
As for me? I feel a sense of relief. I won’t have to fabricate stories for another generation of children, dreading the day they confront me with hurt and disappointment in their eyes. Am I opposed to magic? Absolutely not. I simply prefer to keep it where it naturally belongs—in a realm of mystery and wonder. I see no need for a symbolic hero to acknowledge the miraculous. The enchantment of the real world is always present. Opening a child’s eyes to the beauty surrounding us seems far more valuable than investing in yet another disillusioning figure.
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