The truth about Santa is that he's real. Now run along and let your mommy and daddy keep reading this post.
They gone? Good. Time for some realtalk.
My son is fast approaching the age where I found out…the Santa thing, officially. I had my suspicions early on. My mom says that I called her once at work when I was four or five to ask her why she and Santa had the same handwriting. A kid in school was spreading rumors and I was inclined to believe him, no matter how untrustworthy he had proven to be in the past. This was just the kind of shit he'd have the inside track on.
And then when I was about seven I started reading Elizabeth Enright's novels, which were written for kids slightly older than I was; and in one of them (I don't remember which one), the main character starts talking about how she found out that Santa wasn't real. I asked my mom about it. The jig was up.
I don't remember if she actually told me then that the same went for the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, but I just assumed. So when my brother found about Santa a few years later, I casually mentioned that there was no Easter Bunny either and I crushed his soul.
I like my kids believing right now. I like that from Thanksgiving until Christmas Day I can use the threat of Santa to get them to perform all kinds of tasks from cleaning their play room to helping me unload the dishwasher, no questions asked. I want to keep that going for as long as I can.
How did you keep your kids from finding out the hard truths? And how did you find out the truth yourself? Were you crushed or were you fine with it? Did you, on some level, always know?
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