"You did good, honey."
I vividly remember my maternal grandmother whispering while kissing my mother's cheek and side hugging her as my siblings conversed, wrapping paper in a chaotic swirl around the group of us. I remember the way my mother's eyes looked, and how celebratory my siblings were as they indulged their stockings and invested in their presents.
You always knew when a holiday was approaching us in my household; not for the cheer, the atmosphere, or the way it was stapled into our brains by society all throughout grade school. You knew due to the way my parents discussed money.
You knew by the way my mother realized that there was only one parent that was working, and how she devised plans to get by but still satisfy her babies. You knew by the way my father hated the idea of children just asking for what they wanted, and neglecting the gratuity kids should have towards their parents.
I do believe there's a Santa. But to go as far as to say it's an overweight man with a terrible shaving routine and a red suit, has never made sense to me.
As an introverted child who was always stuck in their head, I knew what I loved Christmas for. I loved it for the way it tested whether or not my mother listened to what I said throughout the year. I loved Christmas for how nice people were to one another, and how people smiled at me and didn't need a reason other than the fact that it was the holidays.
I don't have all the answers in the world. I didn't then. But I was fourteen when I realized that the Christmas atmosphere of waiting until that spectacular man climbed down a chimney (I grew up in a small home with no chimney so that sucker had to walk straight through the front door) with a sack and piled presents under a dead tree was never going to cut it for my future children.
Obviously, I don't know anything about my future kids, so I am okay with talking about them like their deities or heavenly creatures. It's whatever you believe in, but some of you do believe that they're in heaven right now waiting to arrive, and that's lovely. Regardless if I believe in anything like that, they're not here. Therefore they're innocent. And I will be damned if this nonexistent guy is good enough for my children to idolize.
To pry away from sounding heartless and to approach this topic with more practicality, yes I agree with loving strangers and being grateful for things that aren't tangible. Yes, be happy and spirited during the holidays. Yes, put up a Christmas tree, tack stockings onto your walls, get presents for your loved ones. Watch Christmas movies while holding your favorite people, and keep the warmest pajamas on your bodies. Go as far as remembering the tale of why Santa became an idea in the first place; when Saint Nicholas took matters of being beautiful to a family that didn't personally effect him. Or when he apparently would protect children. I even heard this wild story about him finding three dismembered children and putting them back together and loving them in their afterlives. That's a stretch, but in the 1800's it isn't the most unbelievable thing. And come to think of it, minus the corpses and the brutality of the murders of the children, isn't how he treated them admirable?
That guy can be the old Santa all he wants, but I do believe that my parents and my family has earned the title of Santa too. So don't get your cookies and carrots and cup of milk out, and bite them so it appears to be visible. Don't tell your kids that the elves and the reindeer have worked tirelessly, along with Mrs. Clause. Don't tell me this old guy has been here for centuries, and his longevity isn't a concept and his demise never comes because he's Santa.
Tell your kids how much you love them. Tell them that you've worked hard, and it might take them some time to understand, but patience should come with being a parent and growing comes with being a child.
Clarifying a disclaimer: your children cannot use this as an excuse to tell other kids that Santa is you, or their parents. Being honest with your children doesn't permit them to force other children to live like yours as well. As ludicrous as that sounds, raising a child does not have a handbook, so let the other parents raise their children the way they want to. If your kid tells the other children anyway, let them know that that is not okay and therefore use parenting and the ability to condone what your children can and cannot do to take care of that.
And, they all lived happily ever after. Minus the lying and the glorifying of perfect people who do not exist.
The End.
[Stories read for this entry are cited here: St. Nicholas Center, www.stnicholascenter.org/pages/real-santa/.
Burke, Daniel. “The Real Story behind Santa Claus.” CNN, Cable News Network, 25 Dec. 2014, www.cnn.com/2014/12/22/living/real-santa-claus/index.html. ]
[https://en.dopl3r.com/memes/dank/that-moment-when-you-realize-you-grew-up-to-be-the-grinch-hate-hote-hate-hate-hate-hate-double-hate-oathe-entirely-atbustle-idont-know-why-leverleaveam-i-just-eating-becouse-this-place-im-bored/161682 of course I pick the picture with the wildest URL, but The Grinch is fitting. Not only is he fictitious, but he is unbelievably relatable, especially being a young adult in this generation. He is a product of what our culture can create, and again, I'm not bashing our culture, but kids can know he's a work of art and he's awesome, but he's not real. Just like the guy in the red suit.]