I was on the phone with my son yesterday. We were laughing about a bunch of stuff as fathers and sons do. He then asked me if I would ever lie to him. When I said, “No, of course not!” it took him only a second to call me on it. “What about Santa?”
Damn! I had lied to the kid. And I had told him a whopper. Like most parents I kept the belief in Santa alive as long as I could, just as my own parents did. Even my brothers used to keep the spirit of Santa alive, long after they knew the truth. Everyone did such a good job that it wasn’t until third grade that I found out about the “Big Lie.”
I still remember it. We were all sitting in Mrs. Straub’s class. I was seated behind David Starkey who liked to pick his nose and eat his boogers. Mrs. Straub was an old-school elementary teacher. One day she looked right at David and said right in front of the whole class, “David, are you hungry? Would you like to eat something besides your boogers?”
Because of Mrs. Straub, I have always been afraid of paper cutters. She was missing part of her finger and she told us all that she had accidentally left a finger hanging off the end of the paper cutter and – WHAM! – there went her finger.
I think she delighted in telling us these things. And so it was one day during the winter when we were about to do our traditional Christmas snowflakes and construction paper chains that she crossed the line, casually announcing to the class as we opened our paste, “Of course, we all know there’s no such thing as Santa.”
All the kids nodded and laughed. I went right along, even though I was dying inside. There was no Santa? How could someone like your mom or dad lie to you about such an important thing?
I came home and burst into tears. My mom admitted that I had been duped, just as she had been duped by her father and mother. The chain of deceit had been left intact for generations.
When I had my son, I didn’t think twice about continuing the charade. His sister, who was 17 years older, gladly went along. “That would have to mean that Santa would have to give his sister presents again, wouldn’t it?” I nodded, reluctantly. Nothing like a little blackmail to make it feel like the season of giving, eh?
We did a good job keeping the magic alive. I would get up in the middle of the night and assemble all the toys. In my family, all the toys from Santa were set up and running in the morning. My father must have spent all night setting up the race tracks, trains and other toys. Even when we’d get a Kenner construction set, we’d find a building half built, as if Santa was having a blast at our house but had to reluctantly leave to stay on schedule.
I think my dad secretly enjoyed playing with everything each year. I’m sure it’s why he took all the time to set up all the stuff. It certainly was why I did.
Parker’s a smart kid, though. He started to see holes in the story by the time he was seven. Even then he wondered how Santa could deliver toys to the whole world in a single night and how he knew that you were naughty or nice. At one point, he had decided to test the naughty or nice concept to see if Santa was really watching.
Lo and behold, a letter arrives in the mailbox addressed to Master Parker Zerr.
He opens it up and it says:
Ho! Ho! Ho! and a Merry Christmas Parker! Santa has been watching and has been very sad because you haven’t been being as good a boy as you should. You’ve been on my “Nice list” for such a long time but I’m afraid the elves in the “Naughty or Nice Department” have brought your behavior to my attention. I have a wonderful bag of goodies ready to deliver to your house and hope you’ll have those delicious cookies ready for me when I come down your chimney. But Santa’s asking you to be a very good boy for your mommy and daddy and at school so you aren’t added to the “Naughty” list and get a lump of coal. That would make Santa very unhappy! Keep being a good boy. Santa’s looking forward to visiting your house soon.
Love, Santa
P.S. Be sure to leave something for the reindeer!
Yes, I still have the letter I sent him.
Fortunately, The Santa Clause movie had come out about that time. I think he must have watched it 10 times the first week we had it. I think he was looking for loopholes, but all I heard out of his mouth was, “Oh, I get it.” From that point on, The Santa Clause became our guidebook for explaining everything that needed to be explained.
That held true until two years ago when Parker hit 11. I figured that in middle school the word would be out so I decided it was time for one of our Man Talks. These have been a tradition with he and I since he was young. We have a “no subject off limits” talk and honesty is the key. I would tell him straight up about anything that was on the Man Talk agenda.
This particular day, it was Santa. I have been told since then that I did it a very cool way. I started by telling him that he was becoming an young man and that as a young man, he was privy to certain “adult” secrets. These he would be responsible for carrying on in the world, just as my father had entrusted them to me. I then let him know about Santa, and told him that it was now his job to pass the magic on to other little kids, including someday, his own. The mantle was being passed.
As I explained the responsibility of keeping the magic alive, he shifted quickly from disappointment to great pride. He was now on the grown up side. He knew the secret. One he would keep close to his heart, passing it on someday to his own children.
My daughter wasn’t very happy about this, however. Santa no longer came to her house. But at 28, it was about time for her to know the truth, too. Dads can’t be blackmailed forever, baby!
Out on the Treasure Coast, wrapping my first Christmas package today,
– Robb