Growing up, Santa Claus was a central figure in my family’s holiday celebrations. My parents truly believed in creating the magic of the season, and they went above and beyond to make each Christmas unforgettable for my two brothers and me. This included a special visit from Santa himself!
Every year, after attending the early Christmas Eve service, my parents would prepare a light dinner, make sure we were dressed in our brand new pajamas, and tuck us into bed—all before 8 p.m. It was no easy feat to fall asleep with the excitement buzzing in the air; after all, Santa was going to leave presents under the tree just a few hours later! My mom would always remind us that the quicker we fell asleep, the sooner Santa would arrive. Somehow, we managed to do it every year.
A few hours later, my mom would sneak into our rooms, waking us from a deep slumber while urging us to hurry because Santa was almost done with his rounds. She would tell us to listen for the reindeer on the roof—little did we know it was actually my dad tossing pebbles from the backyard. They really went all out to keep the magic alive! We could hear Santa’s booming voice downstairs, wishing us all a Merry Christmas.
With our eyes barely open, we made our way down the stairs, nervously holding onto our mom. Santa would greet us by name, complimenting our behavior throughout the year before handing us each a present. Then he would dash off to continue his deliveries, leaving us in awe as we tore into our gifts, still somewhat dazed.
In all the excitement, we never realized my dad was missing until he finally came back inside. Each year, he had to make a last-minute trip to the convenience store for ice—something we always seemed to be low on during the holidays. When would he learn to stock up ahead of time?
When I turned 8, some of my friends started claiming that Santa wasn’t real, suggesting it was our parents buying the gifts. I decided it was time to confront my mom about this ridiculous notion. I was nearly certain she would assure me that Santa was indeed real, especially since we saw him every year.
However, with a gentle smile, my mom explained that while Santa embodies the spirit of Christmas, the man in the red suit from the North Pole was just a fun story. She asked me to keep this revelation to myself, believing every child should discover the truth on their own time. I’ve honored that promise until now.
Fast forward to this year. My youngest child, Max, is now 10, and I’ve been anxious about when he might stop believing. I worried that with him in fifth grade, other kids might tease him if he still believed in Santa. I suspected he might already know more than he let on, but he wasn’t bringing it up.
Recently, while chatting about the holidays and our annual visit from Santa, I casually mentioned that Santa represents the spirit of the season and that there isn’t really a man living in the North Pole. Max simply replied, “Oh, okay. I know that.”
Well, that was easy! I reminded him to keep it a secret, especially from his younger cousins who still believe. “Mom, I know Santa is Grandpa,” he said nonchalantly. I was taken aback. “Oh, you do?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied, then quickly changed the subject to dinner.
It suddenly hit me that for my kids, Santa will always be real. They see him each Christmas Eve just like I did. He may not reside in the North Pole, but to them, he’s their grandfather who takes the time to dress up and create that special magic, along with their grandmother who helps him prepare. My mom was right; Santa embodies the spirit of giving, and what a beautiful legacy to pass down to our children and grandchildren.
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In conclusion, Santa will forever be a cherished part of our family’s traditions, representing love, joy, and the spirit of giving.