'Sorry kids, I killed Santa.'

by JO ABI

 A very good friend of mine isn’t speaking to me. My son apparently told her son that Santa isn’t real. When her son challenged my son, insisting Santa is real, otherwise how did all those presents get under his tree and who flew the reindee,r my son responded that he KNEW Santa wasn’t real because his mum (me) told him.

Wait, let me defend myself.

Earlier this year my son came home and asked me if Santa is real. Apparently more than one friend at school had told him Santa wasn’t real and that it was the parents who did it all, including eating the cookies and drinking the milk. My son had just turned eight and his first reaction to the boys who told him this was incredulousness and asking me was just his way of confirming what he already knew – that Santa was real and these boys were stupid.

I didn’t end up having to blatantly lie and say Santa is real. I just laughed as he shared their theories and hoped it would all go away.

A couple of days later it became more serious.

“Mum, is Santa real? Some of the boys at my school say he isn’t real and that it’s the parents.”

“Um, let me just finish making dinner. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

I escaped to the kitchen and leaned heavily against the kitchen bench. What the hell do I do now? Do I tell him Santa isn’t real? Do I lie and insist he is real? And by the way, I resent the fact I have to lie to my children in the first place, about Santa, about the Easter Bunny, about the Tooth Fairy. Yes the stories are cute but what does it do to children when they find out their parents are lying to them? Doesn’t the deception perpetrated by those they trust the most damage them more than the fact Santa isn’t real?

He forgot the conversation that night, thank goodness but the next week he asked again and by that stage I’d spoken to my husband and we’d agreed it was probably time to tell him. He wasn’t going to let it go.

I sat him down and began by apologising that I didn’t tell him sooner. His friends are right. Santa isn’t real and by the way neither is the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. The fact that he’d figured it out meant he was a big boy and he could now help me set it all up for his little brother and sister.

He laughed and said, “Mum!” He pretended to hit me and then asked me a million questions.

I then threatened him with grounding for life if he ever told any of his friends.

“What if they ask me,” he said.

“Tell them to ask their parents. Tell them you don’t know.”

He did pretty well until school holidays. I had a few kids at my house and they were all similar in age to him. The same discussions were taking place with their friends and I heard Philip say something about Santa not being real.

I dropped the plate I was holding and ran out. “Philip. What did you say? I told you not to say anything.”

“I didn’t. I just said I didn’t believe in Santa.”

Then my niece chimed in. “I said I do believe in Santa.”

Phew. “Okay, good. Everyone believes different things and if you’re not sure, ask your mum and dad,” I said.

I thought that was the end of it.

The first time my friend didn’t speak to me I thought it was because she was so distracted by the conversation she was having with someone else that she just forgot to. I sat by myself, planning to catch up with her the following day.

The following day it was worse. I said hello and the eye contact was limited. Something was up. It wasn’t until the next day that I insisted she tell me what was wrong. Her children no longer believe in Santa.

“But I didn’t say that.”

“Apparently Philip said something.”

“He just said he didn’t believe in Santa. He didn’t say Santa wasn’t real.”

“He said you told him Santa wasn’t real.”

Shit.

“But they’re at that age. This is normal. Why is it my fault? They were going to find out anyway. I tried to stop it. For crying out loud, I didn’t kill Santa.”

I have to say that Christmas is tainted for me this year. My first sight last week of Christmas tree decorations in my supermarket made me feel ill.

There’s an easy solution. Here’s an idea…

Let’s stop all this nonsense. Let’s never create the Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy fantasy for our children. Let’s make sure they know it is a game instead. It can still be magical and fun and children will lose themselves in the story at the same time as knowing it isn’t real. Then we don’t have to lie to our children during their formative years.

And as an added bonus we will save money because we don’t have to buy presents from Santa AND from us.

They were going to notice the wrapping paper was the same eventually anyway, and the tags, and the writing on the presents. Or they were going to walk in on us setting it up. Or someone else was going to spill the beans.

Let’s make a pact and end the charade. We can do it. Let’s start….now. Let’s save the trust between children and parents, money and friendships.

Australia can lead the way…

Jo Abi is the author of the book How to Date a Dad: a dating guide released by Hachette Livre Australia.  You can read more about her many and various exploits here.

How old were you when you found out Santa wasn’t real?