The Big Fat Christmas Lie.

W

e lied for the first time to my baby girl this past weekend. She's only 4 months so she's probably not affected that much. But I plan to keep up this lie. I'm supposed to protect and love her, shield her from shady creeps and con-men, including future high school jocks, and here we were, planting the seedy seeds of deceit. What did we lie about you ask? Well, we put her on Santa's lap and that was it. We didn't have a big philosophical discussion about whether or not we were going to follow the mainly commercialized tradition of Santa Clause, whether it was so-called idol worshiping or taking away from what Christmas is all about, we just did it. Our parents did it to us, and we turned out OK. No feeling of resentment or ill will towards our parents; no doubts of our faith have crept in because of Santy Clause. This is how the lie went down...

She slept for nearly the entire family party, for which I was grateful, but I was worried she'd miss the big moment when Santa showed up! I wanted her awake for the big moment when she'd get to sit on a strangers lap and I could take a picture! He wasn't really a stranger, one of the cousin's spouses who got roped into putting on the big red suit this year. Poor guy was sweating from the heat. Who wouldn't in a giant velvet outfit with fur cuffs? She loved it. She stared at him with her wide grin and bright eyes, and that's why we did it. Because Christmas is a magical time full of wonder, especially for little children. Don't get me wrong, she's no dummy. She's bright as can be and right away flipped his beard up to reveal the backing was nothing more that a piece of white fuzzy fabric, not even a real fake beard. "Quick, get the pictures while she's smiling!" And that was all there was too it. Easiest lie I ever told. And now I have a picture to save for all time of my daughter's first time meeting Ol' Kris Kringle. 

I remember the last Christmas that I believed in Santa Clause as a child very vividly. I remember because it was the year Santa saved Christmas! At least I thought he did. I wasn't as savvy as Susan Walker in Miracle on 34th Street I guess.  I had asked for a ukulele that year. Seems a little nerdy now, but it was the cool thing to get since all the kids at school were learning how to play them. Now I had asked my parents for one, because I was beginning to suspect it was them all along. When Christmas Eve rolled around my mother told me she had tried to get one, but there wasn't one to be found. She had gone shopping too late in and told me not to be too disappointed. Of course I believed her - why would my mother ever lie to me? Oh the irony.  

Needless to say, my hopes were dashed. There was only one last resort, I had to write a letter to Santa!  I remember going straight to my room and scribbling out my desperate letter telling Santa that he just had to get me a ukulele because my mother had tried but couldn't. I begged and pleaded and even wrote "You are my only hope." I presented the letter to my dad so that he could mail it, but after a quick skim, he decided he first better read it out loud at the party for all to hear. I realized I was being mocked after the laughing ensued. Even still, I was just sure Santa could fulfill my Christmas wish. I bundled up with my dad and he took me to the post office at 11 pm Christmas Eve. Apparently by 3rd grade I hadn't yet figured out how the post office worked.I truly believed it would get to the North Pole in time for Santa's elves to crank out one more ukulele for me. It was before midnight after all, Christmas hadn't come yet. 

When Christmas morning came, I looked at all the presents under the tree and there wasn't a single box shaped like it should. Wait, what was that triangle box up on the mantel? My very own ukulele. It worked! Santa got my letter! He saved Christmas! I'm sure my parents gave each other a sly wink once they realized they had convinced me for at least one more year of the existence of St. Nick.

Does it mean because we've introduced Santa that we aren't teaching our daughter the true meaning of Christmas? Is she too young still? 

I was going to do the decorating myself. Not really the kind of thing my husband gets into. And Liberty is much to young to do much other than stare at the mesmerizing Christmas lights as I try to string them evenly on the tree. But if she's not to young to introduce the story of an ancient jolly man who lives in frigid temperatures while employing all the world's elves to make toys, flies around the world on a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer just to squeeze into your chimney at night, the only man who's been pardoned in every county to commit breaking and entering to leave gifts and eat the cookies you really want to keep for yourself. While she may not "get" who Santa is, she's bright and I'm sure she's pickin' up some of what we're puttin' down. So of course she's old enough to teach her the TRUE story Christmas. The story of God sending His Son to Earth as a tiny, innocent and beautiful baby boy, born in a stable to Mary and Joseph, where humble shepherds came to see and worship Him. In fact, I'm sure she could teach us a thing or two having come straight from heaven not that long ago. While I'm handling the majority of the holiday decorations, we'll be setting up the nativity sets together this year.

-Rachael