Dondi
Well-Known Member
I wonder who here has not done the Santa Claus, for whatever reason.
I, for one, chose not to play Santa with my kids. Not because of religious reasons, but because I remember how sorely disappointed I was in finding out the hard way that the truth.
As a child, every Christmas, I would make it a point to wake up about 4 o'clock in the morning and sneak down to the living room to make sure Santa didn't miss our house. Sure enough, to my delight, the mountain of gifts spread well into the carpet area underneath the tree. And without so much as a rattle or shake, I'd make an inventory of my cut and noiselessly make my way back to my bedroom, and nearly not get back to sleep, perhaps thinking about Santa's stealth technology.
One Christmas, when I was 9, my covert operation ran into a bit of a snag when I discovered that no 'new' presents awaited me at the tree. Well, since the Christmas tree was in the corner, I reasoned that perhaps the gifts were hidden back behind the tree, so I proceeded to press my way between the wall and the tree and slid along toward the corner, sweeping the area with my eyes to see if I could spot the displaced booty. Unfortunately, I underestimated the clearance between the wall and the tree and before I could react, the entire tree toppled over with a loud thud. Broken ornaments, broken bulbs, and tinsle showered the carpet and I froze in horror as the tree darkened at my feet. Before I could analyzed my options, I heard the booming sound of my mother's footsteps rushing down the stairs to see what was the commotion. I looked at her, she looked at the mess, then at me with astonishment, sat down on the piano bench and started crying. (Caveat: You will understand that as a hyperactive child, I wasn't exactly a stress-free child). So as she's crying, I run up to her in tears and profusely made apology, "I'm sorry Mommy, I'm sorry". And so we cried and hugged for a time together. Then when we recovered, She asked me to help put the tree back up, salvaged what ornaments and decorations we could. Found and replaced the broken bulbs that extinquished the tree, and then we proceeded back upstairs to me bed where she tucked me in and went to sleep almost immediately.
Now you may be asking why the change in procedure regarding the nonplacement of the gifts. Turns out the night before was an unsually late session of gift-wrapping and therefore it was decided that the gifts would be placed under the tree early the next morning. Unfortunately, they never knew about my midnight commando ops and therefore never anticipated any mishap.
Meanwhile, as my mind sifted through the events of the night before, I began to have my suspicions about this Santa fellow. And soon afterward, reality set in. It was a bit of a letdown, as you might imagine, or even seen in the eyes of your own children. I didn't understand the rational about putting up a front and passing credit for the gifts to someone I'd really hardly knew, except that I stood in line for someone I would only see for a couple of minutes, whilst my parents took careful note of the wishlist I confided to Santa.
It has since dawned on me that the Santa thing is not really for the kids. It's for the parents. In some misguided manner, parents seem to think that thrusting this deceitful rouse upon the innocence of child is a good thing. They seem to take revile in the fact that they will give their children joy in believing in a mythical character while secretly knowing that it is they who have provided the smile on their kids' faces.
Why? I'm still puzzled over it.
So as a parent, I decided not to subject my children to this. I want my kids to know that their parents spend their hard-earned dollars and deserve the credit where credit is due. Why should I allow their appreciation be diverted to someone who doesn't exist? And I can safely say that my children never missed believing in Santa Claus. They have turned out quite well, thank you.
I, for one, chose not to play Santa with my kids. Not because of religious reasons, but because I remember how sorely disappointed I was in finding out the hard way that the truth.
As a child, every Christmas, I would make it a point to wake up about 4 o'clock in the morning and sneak down to the living room to make sure Santa didn't miss our house. Sure enough, to my delight, the mountain of gifts spread well into the carpet area underneath the tree. And without so much as a rattle or shake, I'd make an inventory of my cut and noiselessly make my way back to my bedroom, and nearly not get back to sleep, perhaps thinking about Santa's stealth technology.
One Christmas, when I was 9, my covert operation ran into a bit of a snag when I discovered that no 'new' presents awaited me at the tree. Well, since the Christmas tree was in the corner, I reasoned that perhaps the gifts were hidden back behind the tree, so I proceeded to press my way between the wall and the tree and slid along toward the corner, sweeping the area with my eyes to see if I could spot the displaced booty. Unfortunately, I underestimated the clearance between the wall and the tree and before I could react, the entire tree toppled over with a loud thud. Broken ornaments, broken bulbs, and tinsle showered the carpet and I froze in horror as the tree darkened at my feet. Before I could analyzed my options, I heard the booming sound of my mother's footsteps rushing down the stairs to see what was the commotion. I looked at her, she looked at the mess, then at me with astonishment, sat down on the piano bench and started crying. (Caveat: You will understand that as a hyperactive child, I wasn't exactly a stress-free child). So as she's crying, I run up to her in tears and profusely made apology, "I'm sorry Mommy, I'm sorry". And so we cried and hugged for a time together. Then when we recovered, She asked me to help put the tree back up, salvaged what ornaments and decorations we could. Found and replaced the broken bulbs that extinquished the tree, and then we proceeded back upstairs to me bed where she tucked me in and went to sleep almost immediately.
Now you may be asking why the change in procedure regarding the nonplacement of the gifts. Turns out the night before was an unsually late session of gift-wrapping and therefore it was decided that the gifts would be placed under the tree early the next morning. Unfortunately, they never knew about my midnight commando ops and therefore never anticipated any mishap.
Meanwhile, as my mind sifted through the events of the night before, I began to have my suspicions about this Santa fellow. And soon afterward, reality set in. It was a bit of a letdown, as you might imagine, or even seen in the eyes of your own children. I didn't understand the rational about putting up a front and passing credit for the gifts to someone I'd really hardly knew, except that I stood in line for someone I would only see for a couple of minutes, whilst my parents took careful note of the wishlist I confided to Santa.
It has since dawned on me that the Santa thing is not really for the kids. It's for the parents. In some misguided manner, parents seem to think that thrusting this deceitful rouse upon the innocence of child is a good thing. They seem to take revile in the fact that they will give their children joy in believing in a mythical character while secretly knowing that it is they who have provided the smile on their kids' faces.
Why? I'm still puzzled over it.
So as a parent, I decided not to subject my children to this. I want my kids to know that their parents spend their hard-earned dollars and deserve the credit where credit is due. Why should I allow their appreciation be diverted to someone who doesn't exist? And I can safely say that my children never missed believing in Santa Claus. They have turned out quite well, thank you.