So this morning, it finally happened. The day I’d been fearing for years has come.
While eating her breakfast, the kid turned to me and casually asked, “Is Santa Claus real? Sometimes I think he is, and sometimes I think that parents put the presents under the Christmas tree and eat the cookies we put out for him.”
I almost did an actual spit-take with my coffee.
“That’s what my friend at school said. So is that true? Do you pretend to be Santa and eat his cookies?”
My brain: Think fast, think fast… uhhh, do I *pretend to be Santa*? Do I dress up in a red suit with a white beard and ho ho ho? Do I *actually* eat those cookies? Well, no! Technically, in responding to her question, I’ve never *pretended* to be Santa, and I’ve personally never been the one to take Santa-mimicking bites out of those cookies. So no. SAY NO.
Me, averting my eyes: “No? I mean, NO.”
She pondered this for a moment. “Well I’m going to tell my friend at school that she’s wrong then.”
Oh lawd, THE SHAME.
I immediately shifted gears and hurried her along in her before-school tasks, cleverly diverting her attention from The Santa Question. But, of course, this isn’t going away. And soon I will be unmasked. And I will pay for my jolly, tinsel-draped crimes.
I remember, back when I was about her age, someone at school similarly breaking this same sad news to me, and that evening confronting my father with my suspicions regarding Santa and his minions. At first he danced around the matter, but finally came out an told me in no uncertain terms that yes, aided and abetted by fellow parents, the public school system, and the national media (all in cahoots! Oh, the humanity!), my mother and father had indeed for years perpetrated the merriest of seasonal frauds, with my brother and myself as their victims. I remember being so angry and disappointed that I sulked for days, presaging my stock attitude and behavior as an emo teenager. Thinking back, I feel fairly sure that at that time I wished they’d continued to lie to me. I mean, a good chunk of the joy and wonder gets sucked out of Christmas when you stop believing, right?
Right. Right?
Here I am, in the same situation as the one I’d put my father in more than thirty years ago, and I’m not entirely sure which choice is the better one. At what point, as a parent, do you finally give up the holly-jolly ghost? When is it time to your kid tell the whole, deflating truth, knowing that in doing so you will wholly obliterate a little bit of the magic of their childhood? How do you, in essence, bring yourself to become a SANTA KILLER?
I am in NO WAY ready for this shit. If you people need me, I’ll be over here drowning my sorrows in eggnog and eating my feelings of shame and regret (they taste like spiced Gingerbread this time of year!).
Our 7 yo recently asked us the exact same thing a month ago and my husband handled it beautifully: “Well, son, what do you think?” My son still believes.
My mom would always answer our questions with “I believe in the spirit of santa claus” which was infuriatingly vague but allowed us to continue to believe without being lied to. She’s clever.
I believed until I was about her age and, yes, it did suck a little bit of the magic out of the holiday once the jig was up. If I were you, I’d let her believe just this once more and maybe bring it up again after the holidays so she has a long while to get over it before the next Christmas rolls around.
Just remember that this opens up a whole can of worms about Easter bunnies and tooth fairies, too.
Ack, the agony of it! Overheard our 10 yr old telling his little sisters that “people at school are saying Santa is just our parents pretending, but I don’t believe it…” For now, he’s got our back. The kid is aiding and abetting his own denial! Keep Santa alive!
On the flipside…I decided it was time to tell my nine-year-old the dirty, rotten truth about the fat man this year. I mean, I don’t want his friends to mock him and it’s a little different for boys. Hell, I dunno. So I had The Talk with him, and I was sweating bullets, and then the kid looked at me and said “well I STILL BELIEVE!”
Of course, he also started bawling at dinner last week and when I asked him what was wrong accused me of trampling his and his brothers’ constitutional right to religious freedom because THEY BELIEVE IN JESUS and I DON’T LEI THEM GO TO CHURCH.
Which, well, we’re culturally Jewish atheists here, and I never realized anyone WANTED to go to church, and he couldn’t think of a particular one he wanted to go to and neither of his brothers jumped on the bandwagon with that one. Sometimes I think that kid just likes to fuck with me.
Bottom line: parenting. You can’t win.
Last year for us (1st grade), Alex came home and asked me if Santa was real. I turned it around to her and asked her what she believed. She said she believed it, but I do wonder now if she does or doesn’t want to tell me. I would hate to lose the magic.
I was 9 when I was officially broken the news by my mom. I remember saying “Oh, I know” to her, but I don’t remember when I started hearing the rumours at school.
I know she’s too young (probaby. maybe. maybe not.) to learn that Santa is just a personification of the Christmas spirit in all of us. He’s a figment we use to quantify our feelings of generosity and joy and kindness that we feel this time of year. So Santa is only ever half a lie. But, yeah, probably too deep for a little one.
My plan of attack would be to stick by the idea of Santa until she argues. If she’s still so easily reassured that he’s real, then she’s probably still too young to learn otherwise.
Oh, and as an aside, learning Santa wasn’t real didn’t kill any of the joy of Christmas for me. I love it now more than I ever did when I was little.
She’ll live. Telling her the truth isn’t wrong. Explaining to her the ideas behind Christmas & urging her to be a more Compassionate, Giving & Grateful for all the good things in her life will make her a better person. After all, Santa Claus is a reflection of us- our best, most available selves!
Answer a question with a question: “What do *you* think?”
Tacy knows, but we reminded her to keep it to herself because her classmates believe. I asked her just now whether it upset her when she figured out the truth, and she replied, “No, I thought it was cool. I didn’t know you guys could be so sneaky.”
So, uh. There’s that.
I like Julie’s use of the Socratic Method there.
In my house, we all know, but we all still pretend that we don’t. My 11 year old and 8 year old have been told in no uncertain terms that if you don’t believe in Santa, then Santa doesn’t bring presents. Boo ya! So we all act like Santa is real, more for me I think than for them, and then Santa continues to bring presents that we oooh and ahhhh over and talk about his crazy white beard and Rudolph and how the elves are doing this year. And they still leave out the cookies and milk and write notes to Santa and we all perpetuate the act together. To me, Christmas is just better with Santa than without.
I figured it out when I was about 8 or 9, and I noticed that “Santa” had the exact same handwriting as “Daddy.” When I asked about it, my parents first said that Santa left the gifts at the house, and my parents had to wrap them and put them under the tree. “Since he can’t really visit every house in the world in one night, you?” When I asked follow-up questions the next year, my parents just said that when you stop believing in Santa, you stop getting presents. I never asked again. And I do all my gift tags on the computer.
I think I knew for a few years before I let on to my parents that I knew, because I was afraid that if I let them know I knew THE TRUTH then somehow the gifts would stop arriving. When my parents and I did go over it, “officially,” they read me the “Yes, Virginia” letter. There were no dramatic repercussions. =)
My kid’s 18 now, and I remembered sweating that question from the get-go. He was about your daughter’s age when I finally fessed up because his questions became too pointed and persistent to ignore. I’d used the “He’s real as long as you believe” line (which is technically true) but it didn’t take him long to see through that evasive maneuver. The whole Santa thing is/was a real conundrum for me: I hate to be a Scrooge, but I also hate lying to kids. Argh.
Hmm, I’m a Jew. I have no advice. When do kids stop believing in Santa?
I heard there is a real honest to God “Santa test” that you can conduct which could influence how you answer. If the kid gets it (and pushes back from the “what do you think?” then they will probably understand re Santa being the spirit of giving or whatever). The test- have a container of water and two glasses that are obviously disparate in size/shape. Pour some amount of water in one glass and have the child observe that. Then pour the water out of that glass directly into the other shaped glass. Then ask the child which glass had more water. You can pour the water back to the other glass to help the kid get it.
A friend of mine who overheard a neighborhood kid telling her children that Santa wasn’t real put it best. “You have to believe, to receive.”
I just remember being terribly disappointed when I discovered the truth. I found out the old fashioned way: I snooped. I heard my mom open the closet door at the end of our hall way (which was right next to my room). As an aside here? Mom, you shoulda waited until you were SURE I was asleep before pulling everything out. Anyway, I got up and saw them putting all the stuff under the tree and eating the cookies. I was crushed.
So, to sum up. I got nothin’ in the way of advice, but thanks for the trip down memory lane. Snort.
This is the first year my oldest knows the truth (she is 9) and it sucks! I thought it would be nice to not have to keep up the sham, but I like the sham! I used to say “What do you think?” when she asked me those questions and she would answer “I know he’s real” and knew I was in the clear a little while longer. BUT at Easter last year she started making these snide comments like “Yeah, right” when we talked about the Easter Bunny, so I figured it was time. This time she said “I know he’s not real, is he?” I couldn’t lie anymore. At least I still have my 5 year old to lie to a little longer!
Yeah, seriously, never ready for that. NEVER. There’s worse, though, like when bad things happen to people or animals they know … but enough of that. We gradually transitioned to an OF COURSE Santa exists *wink, wink* mode, and I think they turned out fine. Well, mostly.
Dear Jewish children, / Stop saying there’s no Santa. / Don’t disrupt our lies!
I like what others have said, asking her, “what do YOU think?” Ever the detective, I figured it out when I realized Santa and my mom curiously had the same handwriting! I must have been in second or third grade…
When she is ready to NOT believe is Santa anymore, she won’t ASK you about this… she will just KNOW. As a teacher, I am confronted by this each year, and parents have shared this conundrum often with me. My answer is, “Sometimes the fondest memories of childhood are of fantasies that you once believed.” I will say the same to you.
I’ve been using the “What do you think” line for years, but I think they are on to me. DAMMIT!
I EAT THE COOKIES!
when I told my mom the same thing (last year, yo!) she said “Christine, if you want to spoil Christmas and make me cry, keep talking”
LOL!
My parents never treated the Santa thing seriously, as I remember. We were always pretending and feeling the emotion of the season. We indulged in Santa, but we both knew we were kidding. As kidding as kids know how to be, which is still pretty serious. Everything for the first time, hard not to be impressed. I remember the improbability of it all, but thinking about the attributes of Santa nevertheless.
My oldest is only 4 so we aren’t there yet – she’s just starting to ‘get’ the whole Santa thing but when I was about 10, my younger sister and I marched up to my mom and told her we had been taking and had come to a decision. So my mom (her reaction) was to get ready to tell us to not spoil it for our youngest sister etc. when we got her with: Santa HAS to be real since there is no way that you and Dad could afford all of this stuff!
I was never actually ‘officially’ told but figured it out and it just evolved. Though that year my mom asked me if I wanted to help put out the gifts and I was all “Hell no!”. Didn’t want to let the magic part die and to this day we still sign gift tags with ‘Santa’, ‘Mrs. Claus’ (she brings the practical stuff), Rudolph and Hermie. It’s just…part of our traditions I guess.
Why are comments turned off on the two posts above? *points up* How can I squee in public over my W7 phone win?
At our house, Santa brings gifts to those who believe in him. All three of my kids (11, 10 and 8, and may I say OMG how did they get so old) are still copping to believing. I know I should pull the plug on the fun, but I lie to my kids about all kinds of stuff (trying to force too much air into a balloon can blow your eyeballs right out of your head, just look at your father and his glasses. Happened to him!) so I figure Santa and the rest of the holiday figures are just one more betrayal.
Sigh. I’ve been through it twice now. My oldest was five when she asked. She’s one of those kids who knows and answer before you answer it though, so I had to be honest. She agreed to keep it up for her sister. Now some shitty little boy at school, told my middle kid. She’s six now. He told an entire lunch table full of kids. I wanted to lie. I really did. But again, I was honest. She too, agreed to keep up the charade for her brother.
Thing is? He’s just barely two. He doesn’t get it yet. Am considering just dropping the Santa thing all together. Then I feel bad about that. So…who knows.
What was it about Wednesday this week?! Agent M lost a tooth and promptly reported that she didn’t think the tooth fairy was real. “It’s just PARENTS!”, she replied.
I don’t know what my five year old believes. She wants us to make sure that we leave out milk and cookies for Santa (chocolate milk, because white milk makes Santa want to barf), but that’s about all the talk there is about him. I remember when I was little and my brother took the hinges off my dad’s locked workshop door to show me my Christmas presents; I was more heartbroken that I wouldn’t be surprised than that there wasn’t a Santa. And I have a sister who’s 5 years younger than me, so I got to keep pretending for a while. There was no big bang when Santa died at our house, us kids just started making sure that Mum and Dad woke up to a stocking too.