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Dec. 7th, 2005
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Believing in Santa...
Dec. 7th, 2005 12:21 pmA topic of discussion came up during lunch between co-workers about an in-law who was distraught that her daughter's classmates had told her daughter that there was no Santa Claus. These kids are in the fourth grade. The mother, who is so desperate to allow her daughter to cling to believing in Santa, has asked her brother to play Santa. The question was when do you bend the truth and when do you let the cat out of the bag?
Goldberg as the Evil, but Woofable Santa in Santa's Slay
There isn't an age attached to it per se, but the maturity of the child, in my opinion. And, let's face it, sometimes a parent doesn't have control of when the secret is let out, as in the case of our miserable mom's daughter. However, I think at fourth grade, she should be ready enough to accept the truth. If by chance the mom salvages this year for believing, it will likely be the last.
I recall when I found out that Santa wasn't real (or at least how we believe him as kids, I know about St. Nicholas). Santa popped in at my house when I was six (or was it eight?), arms full of presents, etc. I remember being very excited about it. When Santa leaned down to hug me, I noticed his eyes and immediately recognized those baby blues belonging to my dad. I was one of those annoying kids who constantly asked questions, a sign of my curious and somewhat cynical nature I guess, so this really didn't surprise me. I had questions about Santa before. I found the rented costume later in the house. I admit, I think I asked Mom about it and she asked me to keep it quiet for the twin and the sis.
I remember it fondly though, my dad playing Santa. With his big belly, silver hair, and blue eyes, he was built for the role. In fact, if Dad would have ever grown a beard (to my knowledge he had ALWAYS been clean shaven), there is a good chance we would have had children lining up around the block to sit on Santa's lap and ask for things every year.
Admittedly, it sucks to grow up sometimes. I wonder if I could get my picture taken with Santa at the mall....
Goldberg as the Evil, but Woofable Santa in Santa's Slay
There isn't an age attached to it per se, but the maturity of the child, in my opinion. And, let's face it, sometimes a parent doesn't have control of when the secret is let out, as in the case of our miserable mom's daughter. However, I think at fourth grade, she should be ready enough to accept the truth. If by chance the mom salvages this year for believing, it will likely be the last.
I recall when I found out that Santa wasn't real (or at least how we believe him as kids, I know about St. Nicholas). Santa popped in at my house when I was six (or was it eight?), arms full of presents, etc. I remember being very excited about it. When Santa leaned down to hug me, I noticed his eyes and immediately recognized those baby blues belonging to my dad. I was one of those annoying kids who constantly asked questions, a sign of my curious and somewhat cynical nature I guess, so this really didn't surprise me. I had questions about Santa before. I found the rented costume later in the house. I admit, I think I asked Mom about it and she asked me to keep it quiet for the twin and the sis.
I remember it fondly though, my dad playing Santa. With his big belly, silver hair, and blue eyes, he was built for the role. In fact, if Dad would have ever grown a beard (to my knowledge he had ALWAYS been clean shaven), there is a good chance we would have had children lining up around the block to sit on Santa's lap and ask for things every year.
Admittedly, it sucks to grow up sometimes. I wonder if I could get my picture taken with Santa at the mall....
