My (Somewhat) Close Encounter with Santa

It’s Andy here today. Ann is over in OurLittleCorner flipping out about holiday gifts.

The holiday season always brings back deep-seated memories from my childhood:  the two-week school vacation, the radio endlessly playing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, our Christmas tree with its silver tinsel icicle strands and colored lights, and of course,  the arrival of the annual Sears Christmas  “Wish Book” full of cool toys to lust after.  

And I recall firmly believing in Santa Claus and that (a) he somehow knew which toys I was wishing for – even though I wasn’t one of those kids who sent him letters, (b) he actually ate those cookies and drank that milk I would  leave out for him, and (c) he knew when I was naughty (which was scary).

One particularly vivid memory of Christmas is from when I was around 7 years old. We lived in a modest two-bedroom home, and my sister Helen and I shared a bedroom that adjoined the living room where we hung our stockings and had our Christmas tree (no fireplace in our house).  Helen, who was five years my senior, pretty much called the shots between us. On this particular Christmas Eve, after we supposedly were asleep, we heard someone rustling about in the living room.  Helen whispered to me that it could be Santa and urged me to open the door a crack and peek.  I remember crawling to the end of my bed and reaching for the doorknob, only to chicken out at the last second.  I’m not sure why I didn’t open that door; perhaps I subconsciously feared that I would somehow uncover a truth I wasn’t ready to face. I should mention that at the time it didn’t occur to me to question why Helen didn’t do the peeking herself.

The next morning, after lying awake for what seemed like an eternity, I ventured into our living room. I still can see that red Erector Set box and the airplane merry-go-round under the tree. I was so excited. It was obvious that Santa had taken time to build that merry-go-round just for me.  Another year had slipped by with my belief in Santa safely in place. 

I don’t know when I “officially” stopped believing in Santa; it seemed that my belief just faded away with time.

I often wonder if my transition from being an avid Santa believer to being a Santa disbeliever was typical of what most kids experience. I also wonder if the pervasive cynicism that defines our society today may have something to do with the Santa “lie” that was propagated not only by family members and friends but by our larger cultural and economic environment. This is no small thing given that it is estimated that about 85% of young American children believe in Santa. So, I went searching to see if anyone has done any serious research that might address such questions.

One of the first pieces I came across was posted by Melinda Wenner Moyer entitled “The Truth About The Santa Lie.” Moyer is a science journalist and the author of a book entitled How to Raise Kids Who Aren’t Assholes (anyone who writes something with a title like that has to be taken seriously). Moyer’s post is based on an interview with psychology professor Candice Miller whose research was recently published in the journal Developmental Psychology (Debunking the Santa Myth: The Process and Aftermath of Becoming Skeptical About Santa).

Because Miller’s research article is rather detailed and lengthy, I’ll keep this brief by sharing just a few highlights I gleaned from Moyer’s interview with her.

Question 1: How are millions of “small humans” convinced of Santa’s existence?

Miller suggests that getting kids to believe in Santa involves considerable effort. We tell them stories about Santa and take them to see him in shopping malls. We provide physical evidence that he really exists by putting out cookies on Christmas Eve and making it appear that he actually ate them. Other people we know proclaim that Santa is real thereby culturally verifying his existence. There are even apps that can superimpose images of Santa so it appears as if he really was in your living room.

Question 2: How, why and when do children stop believing in Santa?

The average age that kids stop believing is around eight but it can vary from four to twelve years of age, according to Miller. Generally the process of coming to disbelief is gradual, “it’s not just one thing that leads them to become skeptical about Santa. It’s the little things that start to accumulate.” Questions come up like how does Santa fit down small chimneys? Or how did the wrapping paper that Santa used show up in mom’s closet? Also, what they may hear from other kids and adults or what they see in movies can raise questions. These are all clues that can add up to the realization that Santa may not be real.

Question 3: How do kids feel when they learn Santa isn’t real?

Miller’s research found that a third to half of the children reported “feeling some sadness upon discovery.” Some kids reported feeling some anger or frustration or confusion, but these for the most part were short-term reactions and soon forgotten. Only a tiny fraction were devastated or felt like their trust in their parents or others was shaken.

So it appears that I’ll have to look elsewhere for those roots of the “pervasive cynicism that defines our society today.” Indeed, Miller concludes her Developmental Psychology article by speculating that there may be unknown benefits to this childhood experience of coming to disbelief about Santa. She sees how it may “help children develop scientific habits of mind” and to “practice intellectual humility” when they learn the truth. And despite their initial negative emotions upon figuring out the truth about Santa, people still generally feel like the “magic of Santa is worth continuing with their own children.”

I can relate to this. Ann and I carried on this tradition with our kids, perpetuating the big lie and having fun doing it. I am so relieved to have learned that while we were keeping the “magic of Santa” going we were not creating more cynicism for a world that needs much less of that sort of thing. And, I still think I made the right decision to not follow my sister’s urging to open that door.

Now I’m wondering if the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny could be the cynicism culprits. But that’s a topic for later.

Happy holidays -regardless of what you believe.