Did you believe in Santa when you were little? I think I did but I honestly can’t remember and my mom swears she never “lied” to me and told me there was a Santa Claus. I hadn’t really thought about it that way — lying. This troubles me specifically because my son believes in Santa right now and I let him. (He also believes in the Tooth Fairy, who he thinks is very small, and the Halloween Fairy, who switches out leftover Halloween candy for a small toy. All the fairies leave a lot of glitter around, and usually a short note. The Halloween Fairy singes her notes around the edges, ’cause she’s a little “dark.” And mom’s a pyro.) I’ve always thought of this stuff as preserving a time of magic for as long as possible, this idea that it might be fun if the world could just be a little more fantastical. (My standard answer to things like “Are dragons real?” is usually something along the lines of “Well *I* haven’t seen one.” I don’t want to be the big buzzkill that goes “Of course they aren’t real you tiny dork! Now go do your homework so you can prepare for a lifetime of bone-aching boredom and crushed dreams.”) I think the truth is that *I* want to live in a world where these things are possible.
Which is why I just love that my friend is Santa. You can read him blogging — right now he’s blogging like crazy (how does he find the time?). Even the reindeer have a blog! It’s fun stuff people, read it with the kiddies, it’s ongoing through early January. (Just don’t tell ’em Santa lives in Guerneville.)