At this time of the year I often find myself reliving earlier Christmas memories. It's hard not to do that when your kid is grown and Christmas just seems to lose it's lustre. Like most kids, my son relished every second of Christmas - especially those weeks before the 25th when he edited and re-edited his Christmas list. How many times did I hear him call out to me "Mommy - come here...come here" and I would rush to the living room where he would inevitably be pointing at something on television..."This!" he would yell "I want this! Can I have this??" But, like many Mom's I wanted my child to experience the holiday from all angles so every year we carved out a few hours to shop for children who wouldn't have a Christmas unless some well-meaning strangers gave them one.
It was 1990. Eli had just turned 6 and the excitement and anticipation of the holiday filled his thoughts. He worried that maybe santa knew he hadn't exactly been a "good boy" as often as he should have been...but he hoped Santa would overlook his missteps. I assured him that he had probably been "good enough" to get at least some of the many items on his growing list. I reminded him that Santa would forgive most of his transgressions if he spent some time doing something for others. So we planned our yearly shopping trip to get some toys for children who needed them. We talked about what these children might want and where we might find these toys. We set a date to shop. My plan was working. I was certain this was a good way to instill some values that he could carry with him into adulthood.
On the day of our big shopping trip we bundled up and piled into the car. We were still in the driveway when he said, "Mommy?" "What," I asked. "Why isn't Santa bringing the poor kids gifts?" Oops. I spent a few seconds collecting my thoughts and choosing my words. "Well honey, Santa can't do it all. He needs help. That's why he has helpers....like at the mall...where all the Santa's are just helpers because Santa is so busy getting the toys ready." There. Good answer. "But," he said, "why are we buying toys for the kids. Do other people buy us gifts too?" Uh oh. I may be losing ground here I thought. "Well Eli, the real truth is we pay Santa for the toys and the poor kids parents' don't have the money to do that." This was not going well. After a long silence during which he pondered my answer he said, " That's not nice. Santa's not very nice is he?" Oh. My. "I think he is Eli. But he wants us to be nice too. So we help." Another silence. "I don't like this," he declared. ANother silence. "Mommy?" "Yes Eli?" Are you Santa? Is there really a Santa? I don't think there is because it's not like in the Night before Christmas book. IS THERE A SANTA? he demanded, "IS HE REAL?"
What to do? What to say? Perpetuate the lie? The kid has already figured it out. I hadn't figured on having this moment with him for at least another year. But here it was. "You're a very smart little boy Eli. And you're right. Santa isn't real. Daddy and I are Santa.". He said nothing for a few seconds. "Oh. Okay. Then lets go get some toys for those kids. And Mommy? "Yes?" "I'm glad you're Santa cause we don't have a chimney anyway."
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