Social Circle, Georgia. I don't remember how my parents did it but for the past few years my ex and I would scrupulously use a different wrapping paper for the few gifts coming from the North Pole instead of from Walmart. Then, after the kids went to bed, I would eat most but not all of the milk and cookies they laid out and move the fireplace screen askew.
Ava stopped believing last year when she was nine. Her mother, my ex, was wrapping our then six-year-old son Chet's presents with her when Ava added a note for him saying, "Be nicer to your big sister, Santa." I was horrified, sure he'd smell a rat. I mean he's growing up in New York City, he's supposed to have some street smarts already. Instead he excitedly waved around his personal note from St. Nick himself.
This year Ava told him flat out that there is no such thing as Santa Claus. I held my breath but he just told her that she was wrong; that he'd seen a red light out his window last Christmas Eve that could only have been Rudolph's nose.
He then turned to me.
"Daddy, do you believe in Santa Claus?"
There was a very nice article by Nathalie Angier in the New York Times the other day on higher primates and how we lie. It also reported that we humans are no better at spotting a lie than flipping a coin to decide. So I could have lied to my son and made him believe it for now, but I have my eye on the long term. I'd rather hurt his feelings about Santa Claus but tell him the truth now because I want him to trust me later and tell me when the other kids in school are trying to ply him with crystal meth.
Then I looked into his big brown eyes and took the daddy way out.
I lied a little.
"I'm not sure. Some people say they've seen him. I never have."
Ava huffed angrily and rolled her eyes at me.
She's one to talk. She still believes in the tooth fairy. Or at least she doens't return the dollar that I leave under her pillow.
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This summary doesn't do the book (a very good tale, humerous, written with Pratchett's typical mix of cynicism and hope) justice - but it's the best justification for myths like Santa that I can see.
Santa is about a spirit of giving and sharing, and based on a real person, Saint Nicholas, who was known for his great faith and his charity and generosity. And yes, today he also makes sure that children get Christmas presents, but I have found that, in our house at least, it is usually something small, and preferably crafty, rather than just shiny tech.
there is no proof of heaven or hell ... preachers are taking $$$ for out-right fraud when promising all that non-sense ...
i also didnt believe the fairy tals in sunday school (not even on thursday nite school) and was eventually asked not to come back cuz i was ruining the "training"
do u believe in the lies of the church???
hey, its funny we are discussing lying to the children
isnt damnation a lie and then a form of child abuse when it is "taught" to innocent children???
aren't they?" I said "yes." She accepted that and it was over. I think the Santa Myth is
a load of garbage anyhow and glad she figured it out for herself. I have always believed
in telling the truth to children. Same story with sex: At 3 she knew all about parts of
the body and having babies. BUT, she was told not to relay this information to her
friends, whose parents may not believe in truth. One day she was on the porch talking
to a little friend who told her: "My Mommy has a baby in her tummy." She came storming
into the house and told me: "SHE KNOWS NOTHING OF THE WOMB!"
So, then who's the scapegoat when there's no Tickle Me Elmo under the tree?
When they ask you if everything will be allright, do you tell them, "Well son, I just don't know, maybe not, maybe this plane will crash and we'll all die a horrible death!"
To take the joy and delight of Santa away from children is simply mean spirited bad parenting, no matter what justification you convince yourself with.
The easy, non lying answer to wether or not Santa is real is "Do you believe he is real?"
If ythe answer is yes, you say... "That's the important thing"
Do you also tell your children that their imaginary playmates don't exsist?
Let your children be children, you joyless, driven, imagination-a-phobes.
You can teach them about crack dealers later.
Santa bought a house boat?
Santa has 12 harbor seals to pull his watersled?