When Christmas came around and I was no longer an only child, I felt the need to be Santa for my brother who was six years younger. I always asked him about what he wanted and then made sure a gift under the tree was signed "from Santa" for him. The look of joy on his face was so wonderful and since I had never experienced it myself, I felt so proud. Sure, we didn't have stockings, and we didn't even put out cookies and milk for Santa at night but the knowledge that at least one of us got Santa, made it okay.
But a few years later, when he made the connection that jie jie (big sister in Mandarin) was the culprit behind his "from Santa" gifts, I came to the conclusion that Santa was the worst thing ever. The mortified look of being duped for so many years, the way he faked that it wasn't a big deal when I could feel like it absolutely was-it just absolutely broke my heart. I decided right then and there that this whole Santa thing was definitely a bad idea. I became grateful that I never believed in it, and that my parents never played along. At least there were some perks for being an immigrant child with parents who didn't buy into the American traditions.
After I graduated college, my cousin who was 16 years younger, would finally learn about Santa. I'd get a phone call from my Aunt asking me what Pokemon was, because her daughter was crying the day after Christmas. The only thing she had written to Santa asking for was Pokemon. My Uncle had seen this letter and dismissed it, thinking it was just some sort of school craft she brought home. They didn't know you actually wrote letters to Santa asking for something, or that parents were supposed to step in to keep the fantasy alive. My brother and I quickly got a Pokemon and attached it to a letter explaining how Santa had gotten lost. But that was about it for her, she would never believe in Santa again after that.
They say some bad experiences can mold a person, influence the way they think or act, and my Santa encounters certainly did that. I decided early on I'd never continue the Santa act for my own kids. When I became religious in my late 20's, there was even more reason not to continue the Santa act. For me personally, the fact that I now began to believe in something I once thought was just made up made all the difference. I didn't want to encourage my kids to believe in something I knew ultimately would be unreal.
And now, here I am with kids, and Santa has become a bit of a misnomer. Our kids don't believe he exists, at least not in the way he's portrayed as someone who magically comes with flying reindeer through chimneys to deliver gifts, rather they acknowledge his presence and the symbolism that comes along with him representing the consumer side of Christmas. Mostly, we talk about Jesus's birthday as the reason for the big day, but then when we get to questions about Santa and if he's real or not, we just ask them questions, and then they come to their own conclusions about how presents never come from "Santa," or how reindeers can't fly, and how Santa is different everywhere they go. A few times, my second yelled at strangers that "Santa is not real!" when asked what he wanted from the big guy. That prompted a discussion about not ruining it for others, and that he is real in the sense of the idea of Santa and that parents can substitute for Santa. When my kids got stocking stuffer items from their great Uncle Ike and great Aunt Jan, they celebrated with joy and thought it a little peculiar that their cousins got the same stuff from "Santa," but rather than inquire as to the difference, they just shrugged it off. And I guess that's sort of where we are now. We don't encourage or discourage, we don't lie, but we also don't tell the entire truth.
How do you feel about Santa?
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