If you’re a parent of a young child chances are you have at least a little bit of guilt this time each year. It’s the Santa Claus dilemma. What do you tell your kids? When do you tell them and how?
I vaguely remember my mother telling me it was the spirit of Santa Claus that mattered.
I don’t have a lingering sense of being injured by this revelation. I’m sure I was disappointed but I have never felt betrayed by it.
I would never tell other parents how to raise their kids. It’s not my place and even though I have a couple of my own who turned out pretty well I can’t claim to be an expert on the subject. But if you’re wondering, here’s what I think about Santa:
Disappointment is part of life. It helps kids grow and to reason with their feelings.
What would be really sad for me is if I had grown up with no sense of magic in the world.
I’m 66 years old and I guarantee this Christmas Eve, like all the Christmases of my life, I will go outside or look at the sky through a window and search for that miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer. I don’t expect to see it, but you never know. And that’s what matters most in the world.
Of all the things we gave our boys I am most proud of giving them wonder and magic.
There’s no lie in it. There is only eternity.