It wasn't the first time she'd asked. The first time she asked that (in front of Claire), I just said, "Why do you ask? Did you hear that from somebody at school?"
No, she just thought it up on her own, she said. She thought it might just be a way for parents to get their kids to be good. This child's just too logical for childhood, I guess.
So that first time she asked, I just changed the subject and moved on. But when she brought it up again later, I decided it was time I gave her an honest answer. "You're right," I told her. "You're a big girl, so it's time you knew the truth: He doesn't really exist." And she promptly started crying, which made me question whether I did the right thing. She's a smart, logical kid, so she had questions and had her doubts, but she was looking for reassurance from me that she was wrong, and she didn't get it. She got a hard dose of reality instead.
But the Santa thing has always kind of bothered me from the standpoint that we're pulling this elaborate trick on our kids. I want my girls to trust that I'll always tell them the truth—or at least not out-and-out lie to them. And as kids get older and smarter, the Santa ruse has to get ever more elaborate. In recent years, I've bought special wrapping paper just for gifts from Santa (because wouldn't it be weird for Santa to have the exact same wrapping paper as us?) I've had to come up with creative explanations for the fact that there are so many different Santas—one at every mall and Santa breakfast. Every year we buy gifts for poor children, and this year, in an attempt at a teaching moment, I explained to the girls that these kids wouldn't get any toys or gifts besides ours. "But Mommy, what about Santa?" Elsa asked. Of course she would ask that—why didn't I anticipate it? I told her, "Oh, they'll still get gifts from Santa—these gifts replace what they won't get from their parents." Which may have been a good cover, but definitely took a little away from the importance of giving at the holidays! Not to mention it's, well, not true.
Plus, I suspected from the start of this holiday season that it would probably be Elsa's last one believing in Santa. Next year she would be 7, and a first grader—I just didn't think she could hold out much longer. It just didn't make sense to continue to put her off when she asked about it after Christmas.
So, Elsa got the truth that night, and it was upsetting to her. We curled up in her bed together and talked about it for a while. I told her that in a way, Santa does exist—he exists every time you do something to make someone else happy. Because that's what Santa is really all about, learning about giving and making others happy. If you give to others, you're keeping him alive in your own way. We also talked about Santa being a symbol of Christmas and what that means. All of that seemed to make her feel a little better. And of course, we talked about how important it was not to tell other kids that Santa doesn't exist, because if they still believe in him, they should go on believing. She agreed not to tell any of the kids at school that Santa isn't real, and she certainly wasn't going to tell Claire.
But the saddest part of the whole conversation was at the end. As I was about to get out of bed, Elsa sadly asked, "So Mommy, what about the Tooth Fairy? She doesn't exist either?" I confirmed that she doesn't. "And the Easter Bunny?"
And the dominoes just kept falling. : ) Where did my little bald baby go?
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