The Myth of Santa

Aidan with Santa

“You’re not going to light a fire on Christmas Eve are you?”

Aidan, our oldest, asked with genuine trepidation as we corralled him into going to bed early. It was 2007 when he was four years old. He was a kindergartener betrayed only by his height since his clear articulation made many people think he was much older. I explained that a man who had the superpower to get through such a small flue could surely manage a little fire in the hearth. I imagined finding Santa, overcome by smoke, smoldering at the base of our Christmas tree. Performing life saving CPR on the Fat Man would guarantee top billing on The Nice List. My wife, Christine, continued the charade,

“Santa will still come even if there is a fire because some kids don’t have fireplaces, but Santa still leaves presents for them.”

This reassured Aidan who went off to bed, certain he was on the proper list, especially since he left milk and cookies. Like most fabricated stories additional embellishment is necessary to keep the ruse going. Some parents take the more honest approach by telling their children the truth about Santa. Hollywood couple, Dax Shepard and Kristen Bell, told their two daughters, age five and three, that Santa “is just a fun thing we pretend while it’s Christmas.” Like many parents they prefer not to lie to their children.


William with the Christmas Box

When it comes to holiday traditions, Christine and I are consummate storytellers. We do The Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. We even made up our own falsehoods to extend the already elaborate bullshit associated with Christmas. Some time ago a friend of mine, who is a particularly skilled woodworker, made several Christmas boxes which he gave as gifts. The box contains twenty-four decorated drawers which Santa fills each night right up to Christmas as if he doesn’t have enough to do already. For school, Willy, our youngest wrote up the morning ritual of discovering the contents of the box as one of our family traditions. He’s in fourth grade and still believes mostly because his school is shutdown and the subsequent isolation prevents alternative points of view from entering our bubble. We are approaching the edge of skepticism as he poses logistical questions like,

“Does Santa carry everything on his sleigh or does he go back and forth to the North Pole to resupply?”

I usually rely on Special Relativity to answer these questions, drawing on my formal education in engineering to further the misinformation. I've explained that Santa travels very near the speed of light so time slows down for him and lengths are foreshortened, allowing more room for the many presents hauled on his sleigh.

Each year William watches The Polar Express which combines his youthful excitement for Christmas with his love of trains. He cherishes a silver bell that he received when we rode a local steam engine at a holiday event, mimicking the movie which likely legally borders on copyright infringement. Each year before hanging his bell on the tree, William shakes it vigorously while asking,

“Dad, can you hear this bell?”

I always tell him that I can’t. He has me hold the bell and recite,

“I believe! I believe! I believe!”

Then I tell him that I can hear the sweet sound, emanating from the silver ornament. The truth is I never believed. When I was three years old, my oldest sister took it upon herself to come clean with me about Santa Claus. She explained,

“Santa is not real, but you get presents anyway.”

She crushed The Easter Bunny as well along with The Tooth Fairy. I never believed in any children’s fables. Later in life she tried to introduce me to other things like cigarettes, alcohol and pot. Throughout the 70's when she was high, she was fond of an occasional smack down that surpassed normal sibling rivalry. My distain for her groovy, hippy lifestyle kept me off drugs, and puberty put an end to most of the abuse. The fact is the common horrible influences in life often originate from within one's own family. In it all, I was luckier that most having another sister, Jeannine, closer to my age. Any sense of family I recall from my childhood always involved her.

When Christine and I finally told Aidan the truth about Santa, he was coming off two years of homeschooling and entering the public school system in our town. His limited exposure to other kids allowed us to continue the tale of Christmas longer than we thought was wise. Now as he was entering middle school, we surmised his classmates would eat him alive if he expressed a belief in Santa. When we finally revealed the truth, Aidan exclaimed,

“Why did you have to do that? Let me be a kid already!”

Turns out Aidan knew for quite some time and was just going along with the notion of Santa because it was his way of hanging onto a time in his life that he cherished. Childhood is all so very fleeting. Aidan wanted to believe in Santa even in the face of middle school torment. I thought that it it was very astute of him to appreciate something in the moment instead of much later when it's gone.

Today, my son is taller than me, has a deep voice and sharp mind. He’s an honor roll student and accomplished musician who writes musical arrangements as easily as algorithms in Java. He’s interested in artificial intelligence and cyber security. He sounds Taps on his bugle at military funerals as a Petty Officer in the Naval SeaCadets. Aidan is very busy now with his studies and the college application process. He doesn't decorate the Christmas tree anymore preferring to spend his free time blasting away bad guys with his horde of online friends. I guess that was a time I used to cherish.

The other day William retrieved his silver bell, and as he shook it in his hand he asked Aidan if he could hear the sound. Aidan bent down and embraced his little brother. His eyes were fixed off in the distance as if he was watching a passenger train pull away, then he answered,

“No William. I can’t.”

I couldn’t help but think that he was saying his final farewell to childhood. William told him to recite the declaration that he believed three times while holding the bell. Aidan complied. Upon the final assertion, Aidan shook the bell then looked to William with astonishment. Willy smiled.

Eventually when William is older all of us will no longer hear the sound of the bell. The myth of Santa will fade from our home, debunked by adult sensibilities and logic, and as I often suspected, the truth does not always set you free.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on December 25, 2018.

Trapped

William Waiting for the Bus

Recently, William, our kindergartener, showed me his Christmas list. It contained the normal requests, Legos, puzzles, books, Play-Doh, all written in his teacher's handwriting. One item caught my attention. About mid way down, William asked for a,

"Leg trap."

Now, this might have alarmed most parents. In fact, I'm surprised his teacher didn't give me a call with her concerns. I knew why he wanted a leg trap. I just wasn't sure how he knew what one was. Some time ago, William started the uncomfortable odd right of passage of losing one's baby teeth. He was very interested in the Tooth Fairy. He left her notes asking a series of questions as in,

"How old are you?"

"Where do you live?"

"What color is your hair?"

"Are you married?"

Just to let you know, the Tooth Fairy is in her twenties, lives on an island, is a redhead and is still available. One time he asked,

"How big are you?"

To which he got,

"About the size of a mouse."

Mouse Trap

I, for one, did not know the Tooth Fairy was so small. The next time William lost a tooth, he set up the game, Mouse Trap, in his room and put his tooth under the red cage as bait. It took him all afternoon. I asked why he had done that,

"I'm gonna capture the Tooth Fairy," he announced.

"Capture the Tooth Fairy! Why?" I asked.

"She sneaks into our house," he reasoned.

"What if she gets mad and doesn't leave you any money?" I asked.

"I just want to see her red hair, then I'll let her go," William explained.

The next day William's tooth was gone. There was no money. A note with a single strand of red hair taped to it read,

William,

Please find enclosed my red hair.

   Sincerely,

     The Tooth Fairy

Now, William was asking Santa for a leg trap. He and his older brother, Aidan, had schemed to use an inverted laundry basket and a stick to capture Santa. They were planning on tying one end of a string to a cookie and attaching the other to the stick.

"That's not a good idea," I instructed.

William looked puzzled.  "Why not?" he asked.

"Remember the Tooth Fairy. She didn't leave any money. What if Santa decides not to leave any presents?"

"I just want to see what he looks like, then I'll let him go," William explained.

I don't think William had thought this through. Messing with Santa while he was at work just didn't seem like a good idea. The dude is on a schedule. Springing a trap on Santa could have dire consequences like getting you top billing on the Naughty List. So I asked William what was up with the leg trap. Apparently, he asked Siri for the best way to capture a rabbit.

"A rabbit? Why do you want to capture a rabbit?" I asked.

"I want to see what the Easter Bunny looks like," William answered.

"I don't know about that Willy," I said.

The thought of snagging the Easter Bunny in a leg trap seemed awful. I had this image of a white bunny with a flowery straw hat and a little wicker basket full of eggs gnawing his own foot off to get away. It's odd that people regard a rabbit's foot as good luck. The rest of the rabbit likely feels differently.

"I thought we could keep him for a while," William surmised.

A lot of children's fairy tales are kind of terrifying with strangers creeping into your house while you sleep. In any event, capturing the Easter Bunny and keeping him as a pet wasn't going to happen. Just take a guess who would be cleaning the cage. No thanks. I don't want any part of abducting the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy for that matter.

And forget about trapping Santa. The dude is like a clown with super powers.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on December 8, 2016.