Updated: Oct. 23, 2020
Originally Published: Nov. 9, 2014
With the holiday season fast approaching, I’ve found myself facing questions about whether I’m one of “those parents.” Which ones, exactly? The ones who choose honesty with their children?
I anticipate some disapproval from family and friends—especially my mother-in-law. Still, it’s time to thoughtfully consider the reasons for perpetuating the Santa Claus legend.
Yes, I get it—it’s “tradition.” But many traditions exist, and not all are beneficial. If we’re talking about cherished family customs that create lasting memories, I understand that secular families might miss out on some of the shared experiences others enjoy. However, we still have our own special ways of celebrating.
Every December, we pick out and decorate a live Christmas tree. I relish the season by listening to a mix of holiday tunes—from classics to comedic takes—while whipping up my favorite cookies: mocha crinkles, cranberry-white chocolate macadamia, and oatmeal chocolate chip, along with my grandmother’s cherished Jubilee Jumbles. On Christmas Eve, my son’s grandparents come to stay, and we feast on a deep-fried turkey—after I’ve turned the kitchen upside down searching for the flavor injector, which I invariably misplaced. Our table is set with sausage-apple-cranberry stuffing and glazed carrots, and we brew wassail to enjoy while opening gifts. Sometimes, we even break into song. My father reads “The Night Before Christmas” to my son, just as he did for me years ago. The following day is spent unwrapping more presents, relaxing, and indulging in cookies.
That’s what I consider tradition. It would continue to be special whether or not Santa Claus was a part of it.
I don’t want to shield my son from the Santa myth; I want to introduce him to various stories from around the world. However, it’s not necessary for us to accept every myth as absolute truth for it to have meaning. The essence of myths lies in their ability to captivate and inspire us, not in their factual correctness.
Proponents of the Santa story often argue that it embodies the magic of childhood. Who would want to take that away? But I feel that this perspective is quite narrow. I’m not depriving my child of anything; he experiences a joyful holiday surrounded by family who love him. If the concern is that he will somehow miss out, let’s consider the facts—countless children of diverse backgrounds—Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Wiccan, and even atheists—have grown into well-adjusted adults despite not awaiting gifts from a jolly figure descending from the North Pole.
My own childhood involved the Santa narrative, but I don’t believe it enriched my experiences. “Santa” was occasionally portrayed by our neighbor, Mr. Baker, and we didn’t really connect. The family cat didn’t take to him either. I soon realized that Santa’s letters mirrored my mother’s handwriting, and they humorously suggested I leave him tuna sandwiches, which was my dad’s favorite.
What I treasure from those years are the real traditions: the tree, the carols, the cookies, and my family.
I think some parents feel compelled to impose the Santa story on their children as a way to reconnect with their own lost innocence. Personally, I don’t need that. I find joy in celebrating family gatherings and the return of the sun—and yes, finally locating that elusive turkey injector. Isn’t that magical enough?
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In summary, the allure of Santa Claus can be tempting, but the true magic of the holidays lies in the traditions and memories we create as a family. The essence of the season is about togetherness and joy, free from myths that may not resonate with everyone.