So yesterday, Ali posted about never being told the Santa myth. I feel bad, because I think every child should at least attempt to believe in Santa. There is a whole sense of wonder, and joy, and the belief of magic. That a fat man flies reindeer across the night, climbing down chimneys and delivering toys to all good boys and girls. Sure, as an adult I thought about Santa knowing when I was sleeping, when I was awake, and my goodness meter, and really, its kinda creepy, but hey its still cool. It is Tradition.
Someone posted a comment on how she was lucky she never found out her parents were lying to her like they did.
I kinda snapped. A bit. (ok it was like 5:40 in the morning, and I am not the greatest morning person) Lying? Seriously? I had parents that lied to me. But I did not hold it againts them for the Santa thing. I believe the sense of wonder that comes from believing in something made up, the attempt to hold something traditional year after year, and well, lets be honest, parents need an edge trying to get thier kids to behave.
Think about it. In elementary school, did a kid come back from Christmas break, and announce that he got nothing, because he was bad? Never. Sure some kids went without, and I remember a 3rd grader that got a carton of smokes, but that is another family all together. No one was ever held out on, and blamed Santa for it.
I am not a christmas person. Its very hard for me to get fired up about it year after year, especially when Walmart starts announcing how many days until christmas in July. Christmas has become a reason to sell more merchandise in the stores, and buy crappy things for relatives that you dont see the rest of the year. But I still get a bit of a shiver down my spine with NORAD tracks santa, and the news teams do announcements about where he is on Christmas Eve. I never wanted to go anywhere on Christmas eve, because, what if Santa missed my house cause I was not there? I used to scan the night skys as we drove from my grandmothers house, looking for that red light scooting across the sky.
My parents were sometimes too honest with me. Once, after practicing all day with a neighbor on my electric guitar, I learned Van Halens "you really got me" opening riffs. I was maybe 12. I ran home and plugged in and called mom and dad into the living room to show off what I had learned. After playing it through, my dad looks at me, and says "that's it?" I did not touch a guitar again for 12 years.
So parents, if you tell kids there is a Santa, your not a horrible person. Your keeping a little bit of hope alive in a otherwise drab world. I plan on fully playing the santa thing with the baby munkey. Let him have fun knowing the truth and playing along, just like I did, its a right of passage.