The Santa Question

So on Thursday night in Franklin, NC, after I'd done my blog post, Sarah, who of course did not want to fall asleep, was talking to me while Tam dozed: often Tam was out before Sarah on the vacation. She starts complaining about some of her friends who don't believe in Santa.

Now in the past year we've had the revelation that the tooth fairy is not real, that the money (both US and Chinese currency) that turns up under the pillow comes from us. (This helps: we were running out of yuan.) We had skirted the Easter Bunny issue though I thought she had that one figured out. This time she hits me straight on: is Santa real. I do the usual: Santa is the spirit of Christmas, he represents the reality of how we celebrate the birth of Christ through giving, and he represents the spirit of the real Saint Nicholas. But is he physically real? Well, no. She's eight. It's about the right time. She has a moment of "so you've been lying to me?" but, after I again say that he is symbolic of the spirit of Christmas and that stuff will still turn up under the tree, she doesn't seem too surprised. I think she already had it fairly figured out. Tam concurs but is half asleep.

I say that Santa is a symbol of Christmas, a tradition of parents telling their children, like the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny -- "Wait a minute! The Easter Bunny isn't real either?" -- I thought I'd had that conversation but perhaps I was a little too vague in my answers. "Did you really believe a giant rabbit brought eggs?" Anyway, no great disillusionment ensued. The moment had to come, I know. And earlier that evening when she visited a cosmetics store with her mom (who was looking for hair detangler) Tam bought her an "age-appropriate" nail polish. They do grow up fast.

I guess I was most taken aback by it coming up in August in North Carolina, not at home at Christmastime. And as I pointed out to her, a fat man with a white beard does provide Christmas presents, it's just that the fat man with the white beard is me.

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