Just kidding. No, it really does, but that's not what this post is about. I promise.
As a young child I grew up hearing about Santa Clause from school, commercials, movies, and even saw him at the mall. I can remember asking my mom one day, "Is Santa Clause real?" To which she replied, "No, honey. Mommy and Daddy buy all of your presents. There is no Santa Clause." (Geeze, Mom. Let's just slap a "No Sugar Added" label to your forehead!) In spite of her brutal honesty, this didn't satisfy me at all. Mrs. Shaffer was very convincing that there was a Santa. Even when I told her that I didn't have a chimney, she quickly responded, "Then he comes through your front door!" Of course! Problem solved.
So on Christmas Eve, I replayed the infamous story in my mind. After I go to sleep, Santa is suppose to come and leave me a present under the tree. All right then. We had already opened our presents that night as was our family tradition. Which meant, if there really was a Santa, I would find ONE MORE present under the tree for me and my brother in the morning. I still remember walking down the stairs and peering into the living room below. All of the opened boxes and toys laid scattered in front of the Christmas tree in a chaotic heap from the previous night's excitement. I carefully turned over every box and torn gift wrap, and scanned the room for any sign of an unwrapped present signed "Santa." None to be found. Surprisingly, I wasn't disappointed; in fact, I can remember thinking "Ah-ha. Just what I thought. Santa Clause really isn't real." Then I skipped off to the kitchen for breakfast. Case closed.
Now, years later as an adult with small children, I listen to my friends' antics with their kids and Santa in honest amusement. The half eaten cookies, the boxes marked "From Santa," elves that report back to their boss, and even the DVDs in the yard that "fell from Santa's sleigh," are all interesting points of conversation and make for some really cute Facebook pictures. I marvel at how well the children obey when reminded "If you aren't good, Santa won't bring you any presents!" Never an eye roll from me. No judgmental comments, because I have none to offer. Just amusement and a smile. I see the look of excitement in the children's eyes, and I get it. I get why parents do the Santa thing. For a space of time, a child can believe in the "magic" of Christmas. For a few short years, they can live in the sweet dream of someone caring specifically just for them. He works hard all year to bring them a special present on Christmas Eve. Not just them, but all the little kids of the world. How does he do it? They don't know, but they know he does, and it's magical!
Then I ask myself, "Are we going to be a 'Santa' house?" I think about telling my kids about a guy in a red suit bringing them their presents on the night before Christmas while they are sleeping. I think about them listening intently, taking in and believing everything I tell them about this big, jolly man with a sled and reindeer and presents... and then... I just feel guilty. All of my friends do it and have so much fun with their kids. But there's something nagging inside of me about pulling on those strings of trust and naive belief in everything I say to them. Then I think of all the clever things I could do to receive the maximum hardcore belief in Santa Clause, like mud tracks on the floor from his boots, and candy canes that fell from his pocket, and... oh, those pangs of guilt. I just can't do it. This doesn't mean everyone who does are sick, twisted, mind controlling, conniving parents. It simply means, I, myself, and I (and my husband because he feels the same way) can't play the game.
Now, I don't want anyone feeling sorry for my children or myself because we were deprived of the wonderful world of Santa Clause. My childhood Christmases are filled with warm, simple memories that I still cherish. I can remember driving around town at night with mom, dad, and my brother just to look at all the Christmas lights in the neighborhood. I recall spending Christmas Eve at my Momaw and Popaw's where our family was so big and their house so small, you had to find your seat for the night and not move. Mine was usually my Daddy's lap. I remember a time when Dad took off work on our Christmas break and played hide-and-seek with us. It was his turn to hide, and he cleverly pulled down the attic door from the ceiling in his closet to make us think he had hid up there. However, he was really hiding behind the hanging clothes listening to our joy of discovering his sloppy trail. Of course, we climbed the stairs expecting to find him, only to really find our unwrapped Christmas presents. We got to enjoy our blue and pink beanbags a few days earlier than mom had hoped. All of those memories and more I look back on with fondness, and I am sure my children will grow up with their own unique memories of Christmas, and hold them close to their hearts as well.
So for everyone else- yes. Please, enjoy the spying elves and the North Pole and Santa on Christmas Eve. Enjoy the wonder and excitement in your child's eyes as they giddily wait for Christmas morning and their presents marked with Santa. Wipe away their tears when they come home from school crying because Johnny said there was no Santa. Tell them Johnny doesn't know a thing. They will believe you. One day, they may be an 11 year old child and see the shipping label on their basketball goal that came from "Santa." They may recognize the writing on the package looks a lot like the same writing on their presents that came from you. Yes, they'll figure it out. But until that day comes, enjoy the magical world that only a small child lives in. Make it as fun and exciting as you can. Live in the moment through their eyes, because someday... they will be the ones eating the cookies and drinking the milk.
