Santa ... Or Not

So Heather posted this blog challenge to write about Santa. And my childhood experience with (or without) Santa mirrors a conversation she and I had when we met over Thanksgiving. She asked about the myths you were told about yourself as a child. I told her that my parents were exceedingly clear-eyed about their childraising, they did a fantastic job of not giving my brother or me any baggage. For example, my grandmother "Nana" (mother's mother) was a worrier. After my mom drove anywhere, she had to call the minute she got home because otherwise Nana would be sure, just sure, my mother had been in an accident. And if it was raining? Forget it!! My mom told me that she made a conscious decision, even though she worried about me too, never to say anything so I wouldn't grow up burdened by those fears the way she did. (Thanx Mom, it worked.) And I wrote about my brilliant science-guy dad in an earlier blog post.

So with parents like those, who were so careful to not lie to their kids, its no surprise that I don't remember ever believing in Santa Claus. I was taught Santa was just a fun game, a make-believe. And no, I don't think my childhood lacked anything as a result. And I know my relationship with my parents was awesome because I was positive they never lied to me, they never had to get me through the trauma of learning Santa wasn't real. The earliest conversation we had on the subject that I remember is my folks saying "Where do you really think those presents come from?" and knowing it was really the children's parents. (They did explain, though, that some people liked to play pretend, and they cautioned me not to spoil the fun for other kids whose parents told them Santa was real.)

That's not to say I had this dour holiday time - I remember my parents driving us through many neighborhoods on many nights looking at lights, or walking to see the displays in store windows on Fifth Avenue (I was born in New York City). One year we went to the top of the Empire State Building so I could see "all the lights there ever were" - absolute heaven for a 6-year-old. I remember having in my bedroom my very own two-foot aluminum tree with silver and magenta balls that I decorated, then took all the balls off and put them on again, over and over again well into the end of February (a gift from Nana). I remember family dinners with so many people we didn't fit in the dining room and had to extend the table to fill the living room with cousins.

Not believing in Santa also gave my folks a lot of freedom from the Xmas shopping stress to have the presents magically appear at midnight on the 24th. In fact, my mom turned it into a learning experience by telling us, she had X dollars to spend. We could choose either to have presents appear when we woke up like all of our friends did, or, we could go shopping with her on the 26th when everything was marked down, pick out what we liked and see how much further the same X dollars money would go. We learned we'd have even more presents if we waited one extra day. Of course, appealing to our childish greed was utterly successful - and my mom started a new holiday tradition of day-after shopping that I still love.