My son was three when he became aware of the whole “magic of Santa.” We were going to meet Santa for a photo op. Before going, I read him a book, and I explained to him that Santa was magic and he brought the children of the world presents in honor of Jesus’ birthday.
His eyes and face lit up. He asked questions about Santa, the reindeer, and the elves. Maybe I painted too vivid of a picture because my son was immediately excited. He couldn’t stop talking about Santa and seemed to tell everyone.
My heart sank. I felt like the worst mom. I just lied to my child. Why do parents do this?
I remember telling friends that I felt horrible lying. I mentioned that I tell my child not to talk to strangers, then I plop him on some chubby guy’s lap and say that it’s okay. But I don’t know who the guy is or if he’s a pedophile or not?
When we lived in California, Santa almost dropped a baby on its head because he was obviously on some kind of mind-altering substance. But you know, as parents who cares if Santa’s an ex-convict or pothead, we have to get that cute Christmas photo.
I asked friends what would happen when I explained that Santa doesn’t exist? My friend giggled and said, we all do it, and parents have done it for years, and we turned out fine.
Yes, everyone tells their kids about Santa, but does that mean it’s right? Is perpetuating the lies of childhood the correct thing to do?
What started with Santa led to the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny, and various other magical characters that our kids believe in. I wanted my child to believe in magic and the possibilities of life, but it somehow misconstrues the message of being honest and telling the truth.
When we were on vacation, and he lost a tooth, that stupid tooth fairy forgot to take the darn tooth from under the pillow. Try explaining that to a five-year-old waiting for his money. Mommy, she’s magical, how did she forget me? Does she not love me?
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My guilt once again kicked in, and I said to myself, you dumb ass. You are the freaking tooth fairy; get your shit together!
Fast forward to my son at seven. It was Christmas time, and he decided to tell a friend at school about how he was looking forward to Santa coming to his house. The boy who didn’t celebrate Christmas told my son that Santa wasn’t real and that his parents put the presents under the tree. My son would not have it. He told the boy no, it wasn’t possible, and the two had a heated debate on Santa Claus.
When I picked him up from school, he skeptically told me that Santa was not real and explained his conversation with the boy from class. He was very upset by it all.
Oh no! Should I tell him? I decided that he loved Santa and Christmas too much, so I backpedaled and did damage control.
I told him that Santa Claus was real. I stated why and he was a believer once again. My guilt was still looming, and I was anticipating the day I had to come clean.
Last year when my son was ten, I had to confess to him about Santa finally. Again, he had a discussion at school with another child. He came home upset, saying that the boy said it was all a lie.
What do I do? He’s ten now. I don’t want him to be made fun of for still believing. I told my son I needed a minute and covertly called a friend for a lifeline. Yes, she said that ten was about the age that you need to undo the damage you’ve done.
So now I have to fess up to my son, a novice lawyer who likes to cross-examine me about everything. I tell him the boy is right that there is no Santa. After I say those words, I’m ready to throw up from the anxiety of it all.
What? My mom tells me not to lie but is a liar. He yells this as he’s sobbing. He asks if the tooth fairy and Easter bunny were real or was I lying about them too. I tell him they aren’t real either.
He throws his head back, crying, and says on the top of his lungs; my whole childhood is a lie; why, why?! It was a very dramatic scene, one that can mess a parent up for years.
I start to cry and say that’s not true. Your childhood isn’t a lie. I was feeling like the most horrible mother in the world. I knew this would happen. This was my biggest fear.
Damn you, tradition!! Why did I get sucked in? I needed therapy now to get me through this crap. I preceded to tell my son about how believing in magic and miracles are important.
That Santa is real and exists in our hearts and minds and is a part of the spirit of giving during Christmas. I said our faith in Jesus is also about believing in miracles.
He wasn’t buying it and wanted to call family members to vent, trash me and call me out on being a liar.
We finally got through the disappointment when I told him that even though there was no Santa Claus, he would still be getting Christmas presents when it was time for Christmas. That made him feel better, but I have to say every time my son is caught fibbing about something, he throws the whole Santa debacle in my face.
One year after learning the truth, he’s still excited about Christmas, but who knows how it’s going to all play out in his adult life. I’m hoping that he will continue to believe in the spirit of Christmas, the good of humanity and that giving is far better than receiving.
I’m a clueless parent doing the best I can. If I traumatized him by telling him the Santa “lie,” he’s just going to have to get some therapy as an adult to get through it.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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