Wednesday, December 11, 2013


I'm learning constantly about the wonderfully creative, talented people in my extended family.  This was posted on Facebook today by my niece, Loretta.  In spite of my usually crusty exterior, this got to my inner "nice person".

I most assuredly perpetuated the lie. I had so many wonderful memories of Santa coming to my house when I was a kid, that it brought me great joy to do the same for my child. Unfortunately my son was very observant and put my lying skills to the test. Questioning why Santa's presents were in packages like the store and the worst one, why Santa had the same wrapping paper as us. The latter is how he figured it out. We had told him at the time that Santa had run out and had to borrow some from us. After that year Santa's presents were always wrapped in paper that was completely different and hidden away. When my son was 9 we moved and when we were hauling stuff into the new place, he found the Santa wrapping paper. That was the moment he figured it out. He was so upset, but not that Santa wasn't real, but that we had lied to him. You lied, you lied to me is what he kept saying. This was in August. By the time Christmas had rolled around he had calmed down and one evening on a drive home from some event we had a conversation. My son at the age of 10 told me that really Santa was real. Not that he was a real person, but he was real in the spirit of giving. That's what Santa was all about. I was a very proud parent at that point. Deep thinker my boy. Now at the age of 21, my son has fond memories of Santa coming to visit and understands the lies. We have been forgiven. So even though I was scolded for lying I would do it all over again without hesitation. Everybody needs a little magic in their lives.


  1. When Lincoln was reading Aesop's Fables, his friend said: "Those are lies Abe." Lincoln answered: "Yes, but they are good lies."

  2. We understand your niece's concern. When the girls were young we told them that Santa Claus was the symbol of giving. We didn't make a big thing about it, but when ever we mentioned Santa or when ever they asked about Santa we would always add that Santa was the symbol of giving. One day we heard one of them say to a friend as they were playing around our collection of Santas, that Santa was the symbol of giving. When they eventually learned, I think both of them heard it from kids at school, it made even more sense to them.

  3. A lovely post. I never did believe in Father Christmas, and that was because my earliest memory of Christmas was being awakened by my mother stumbling into a chair with a pillow case of goodies. That in itself was remarkable as there was a war on. The fun part was 'keeping the secret' from my younger sisters.

  4. Lovely post. I can't remember when I learned the truth about Santa but I fondly remember falling asleep waiting for the sound of his reindeer on our roof.

  5. I remember finding my Barbie camper in my parents' closet - that's when I knew that my MOTHER was Santa Claus. I was not the least bit upset - my mother was a fabulous Santa. She even let me play with the camper (secretly) until Christmas :)


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