When I was seven going on eight, I began worrying over Santa Claus. This was because some of the other kids in my second grade class were spreading rumors about how Santa might not exist. To be fair, it’s something I had started wondering about in first grade.
Sometime around Easter, I went to my mom and said, “I need you to tell me the truth about Santa Claus.” My parents had prepared for this moment, although, of course, they hoped it would be a long time before they ever had to face it. My mother sat down with me and explained the origins of the St. Nicholas story, the loving mythology, the joy mothers and fathers take in making their children’s dreams come true.
I listened solemnly, and when Mom was done, I said, “I guess I’m not surprised. I couldn’t see how Santa could pack all those toys into his sleigh and get up and down all those chimneys and know where every girl and boy might be and get all around the world so fast, even if there are different time zones. And I couldn’t understand why some children get left out. When you think about it, really think about it, the whole thing seems pretty unbelievable.”
I paused and thought about it a moment longer. Then I said, “Well. Thank goodness we still have the Easter Bunny.”
Happy Holidays, everyone! I’ll see you back here next week.
Causes Jennifer Niven Supports
Alley Cat Allies
The American Cancer Society