The Santa Thing

I have been thinking about this lately, about how we are going to deal with Santa in our house.  For now, Santa is not really a thing.  We don’t talk about him or not talk about him.  I make Elizabeth get her picture taken with Santa every year but only because it is awesome.

The main reason that Santa is not an issue at the moment is because Elizabeth remains terrified of him.  She considers Santa to be on about the same level that most people think of axe murderers.  “Here’s a present from an axe murderer!”  So we don’t really bring him up and she’s never received a present from Santa.

My thoughts at the moment (and I reserve my right to change them at any point in the future) is that perhaps Santa will bring a present or two in the future.  He will not bring all the presents.  And it is not really in my parenting style to suggest that your presents at Christmas are tied to your behavior.  You don’t have to be good because Santa won’t bring you any presents if you are badly behaved.  You have to be good because I expect you to be good all year round.  We get presents at Christmas because we love each other.  And we behave all the time because we love each other and we are good people and that is just what we DO.

Even as a kid, I found the whole “someone is watching you” thing to be creepy about the Good Behavior=Presents.  I’ve been asked about five times this year if we are going to be doing Elf on the Shelf.  I don’t really feel like that is a good fit for our family.  The elf isn’t watching you, kid, MAMA is watching you.  And don’t think I am judging you or your parenting if you do the Santa behavior thing or the Elf on the Shelf- it’s just not for us.  Maybe cloth diapers aren’t for you, this isn’t for us.

Now, in dealing with whether or not Santa is real or not.  Well.  I don’t know.  Our house believes in magic a lot and Christmas is magic.  Elizabeth is absolutely convinced that princesses and fairies and gnomes are all real, so why wouldn’t Santa be?  I can’t personally remember ever believing in Santa, only playing along for years and years while my sister believed.  (I ought to remember to ask my parents if they thought I believed.  I think they did.  There is a Rudolph story that my mom tells that I remember clearly that I was pretending and she thinks I thought that was the real Rudolph.)  (It was a blinking red light on the power company tower out the window.  Also, it was there every single night, visible from my sister’s window.)


This post was inspired by Emily’s post and our subsequent Twittering, when I realized that I had more to say than 140 characters worth, and by the two people today who asked me about Elf on the Shelf.