The current debate raging in my sister’s circle is whether their children should be included in the myth of Santa. Apparently, there is concern that by lying to children about Santa you are setting them up for a lifetime of mistrust, betrayal, disappointment and ultimately, jail-time. I tried to keep my voice calm as I gently (at least, I hope it sounded that way) told my sister, that the myth of Santa is relatively mild. I mean, when I play a rousing game of Let Me Count the Ways My Parents Messed Me Up, Santa simply doesn’t make the hit list.
Do you remember when you discovered Santa wasn’t real? I don’t. I remember hearing rumors furtively whispered during lunch time, but I don’t recall being shocked or heartbroken. I didn’t believe the cruel gossip most probably because I didn’t WANT to. Let’s face it – Santa was FUN. He added mystery ad magic to the holiday season. In my house, Santa didn’t bring loads of toys, but he did fill our stockings and always left a special gift or two under the tree. Unlike my parent’s carefully wrapped presents that I could gain an inkling as to the contents, Santa’s gifts were always a complete surprise and not necessarily anything I had even asked for specifically on my List. In short, Santa was a righteous dude and always brought kick-ass gear. Would I deny my own progeny the joys of Santa?