Santa: Secrets and Subterfuge

I  don’t know about you, but I’ve spent the last few weeks cramming boxes, bags and packages into every hidden corner of my house. Some of the bigger boxes are hidden in plain sight, under the pretence that they contain “work stuff”. Over the next two weeks, the late night shopping trips will commence and purchases will be smuggled into the house under the cover of darkness. All of this because of the imaginary portly dude in the red suit.

I love the festive season; I love the food and the drink, the socialising and visiting, the cold weather and the snow, the cosiness from the glow of the fairy lights and the gifts. All of these things are wonderful, but the best part for me is the magic. The children’s eyes sparkle with wonder at the very mention of Santa Claus. There’s excited chatter about elves and reindeer, and speculation about what the time difference is between here and the North Pole. I love it. Recently, though, I’ve started to feel a little bit guilty.

Boy 1 is 10. I’m pretty sure he no longer believes in Santa Claus, but he won’t admit it. So the pretence continues. I remember when I stopped believing in Santa Claus. I have no idea what age I was, but I do remember resenting my mother for taking me for a fool. I distinctly remember feeling genuinely angry that she could think me so stupid as to think it was all true. I didn’t have a great relationship with my mother so perhaps that goes some way to explain why it irked me so much, but I worry that Ben will start to feel the same way. I’m fairly sure it all started the year my dad tried and failed to hook my newly-filled Christmas stocking over the inside handle of my bedroom door, dropped it and muttered “FUCK!” in an angry stage whisper. I don’t think the real Santa says the F-word…

Speaking of Santa, I had Boy 2 in the car this week and Santa came up in conversation. He was carefully planning the menu for Santa’s snack on Christmas Eve (God help those poor reindeer who have to pull the sleigh after he’s eaten it all) when I asked where he’d like to go to visit Santa this year. He turned his little five year old face to me, eyes sparkling in the light of the street lamps, and said “It doesn’t matter. They’re all a big bunch of FAKERS anyway”. Ouch. So we had a chat about how Santa Claus delegates the grotto shifts to some helpers (old fat men with beards, according to Dan) because he’s pretty rammed with work up there in the North Pole. He’s been well warned about spoiling the fun for the other children in his class at school. There might have been threats of candy canes being shoved up his nose…

So, what to do? Do you even do the whole Santa/Father Christmas thing with your children? Have you avoided it completely? Do they still believe? Have you been caught doing your Santa thing on Christmas Eve?


2 thoughts on “Santa: Secrets and Subterfuge

  1. It seems that we want it all. We want magic and mystery, but also prosaic truth, but never the twain shall meet! Our girl gets the general drift re Santa – her biggest concern though is how Santa will get around to all the children with no homes and where will he put their presents. I think – i hope – that eventually the belief in Santa will fade, and perhaps the older one can be involved in the subterfuge themselves. You’re right, it’s lovely to have the magic, but it can only last for so long. Our general rule of thumb is that Santa does the stockings, and if he is bringing gifts he is merely delivering the gifts that have been bought by the people it says on the gift tag – hence why we have to write thank you letters!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s