On Santa Claus

Santa Claus is a lie. Call me a grinch, but the holidays are over and its time to come to grips with the hard truth. If you're a kid, he's the paragon of all that is good until reality smashes your confidence like a ginger bread house in the garbage.

At 10 years old, I was in denial about the reality of Santa even after I had accepted the truth about similar shams like the Easter Bunny. Even though I noticed the obvious inconsistencies -- like the fact that he could simultaneously appear at the Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Westchester Mall -- I chose to ignore them. All of the adults in my life fed me validation of his existence like a candy cane of lies. I was happy to eat it.

The reindeer came home to roost one day in school. My fifth grade self sat cross-legged on the floor and listened to a square-headed librarian read a story about a boy and his baby brother at Christmas. At the end of the story, the mother instructs the older brother not to tell the younger that Mommy and Daddy -- not Santa -- leave gifts under the tree. This was my red pill moment. I finally came face to face with confirmed proof of the truth. It was heady stuff for a fifth grader.

There was a tense silence in the classroom. One kid cried and was sent to the nurse. Some were visibly shocked, others looked like they had known all along. The librarian stood wide-eyed as if she'd accidentally melted the North Pole. Some day, I'd love to pull the NSA wiretap of the inevitable phone conversation that occurred between her and the parents of the kid who cried.



I swear to Sugarplum fairies that I am not a Scrooge but I question the expectation (even demand) that Christmas-celebrating families encourage their kids to believe in the actual existence of this man instead of presenting him as a nice make-believe story. Hannukah seems to be a more honest experience for Jewish kids. I imagine they learn the basics about one day's ration of oil lasting for eight days, receive gifts from their parents, light candles and celebrate. Miracles, hope, light and energy conservation. No magical fat man jumping down your chimney.

And yes, some (probably most) Christian kids learn the story of Christmas, but nearly all focus their holiday energy on Santa. My question is how and why did a gluttonous bearded man get mixed with the birth of the Savior of humanity?

Today I am - and will continue to be - an active participant in the Santa Claus forgery with all of the kids in my life. No, I won't be the square-headed librarian that illuminates the truth like Rudolph's red nose, nor will I be the parent of the kid who dashes the hopes and dreams of his friends. I will take my personal conflict and swallow it like the sheep of society that I am. But when my future kid learns that I have been lying about Santa for the entirety of his/her existence on this planet I will apologize and deservedly accept my stocking of coal.