A #WaybackWednesday or almost #ThrowbackThursday post:
Earlier today I read a sad article on Facebook. It was entitled “Why I Refuse To Teach My Kids The Santa Lie”. First of all, to consider Santa a “lie” is near blasphemy. Santa is a spirit, a feeling and in truth very real in the form of Saint Nicholas, who was a bishop in Asia Minor and is considered the protector of children.
A quote from the article states: “I’m no Grinch, but I don’t want to set them up for future disappointment”. Newsflash: LIFE is FULL of disappointments. Will learning the truth about Santa be any worse than losing out on that dream job? I doubt it. Will eventually learning that Santa is make-believe supersede a failing marriage or a house foreclosing? Nope.
Let me tell you why I intend to keep Santa alive for my daughter as long as she believes. Santa and the magic that comes with him provide happy childhood memories. At age five my husband approached his father and told him that mathematically there was no way Santa could deliver presents to all the kids in the world. Despite his calculations which left his parents scratching their heads, he still believed in the Big Red Gift Giver. I also have fond memories of lying awake on Christmas Eve listening for jingle bells or a hearty “ho, ho, ho”, only to drift off to sleep and awake on Christmas morning.
As I continued to read that article, my thoughts turned to the classic “Miracle On 34th Street” where Maureen O’Hara instills in little Natalie Wood’s head that there is no Santa Claus, that the man with the white beard and red suit is just a nice old man who needs a job. Of course that whole theory goes out the window at the end of the movie…
I think The Conductor in “The Polar Express” said it best: