Parenting Without A License

Rock? Meet Hard Place.

Posted by Kimberly on December 21st, 2007 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple

I know that there are different schools of thought on the subject, but I’m going to go on the record here and say that at our house, we are firmly Pro-Santa. I wouldn’t say that we’re all about the Claus–we are Catholic, after all–but the jolly old elf does play a significant role in our holiday celebrations.

In our house, for example, all presents come from Santa. I give each of The Ladies a new pair of jammies on Christmas Eve, but that’s it. Every single thing under the tree on Christmas morning–and other than those jammies and The Ladies’ gifts to each other, our tree remains bare until the 25th–is from Santa. Sometimes it sucks, like when your daughter’s most compelling argument for the existence of Santa Claus is the fact that her mother would never buy her all that stuff, but for the most part, I love the fact that magic is such a big part of our Christmas and I work hard to keep it that way.

As Diva Girl gets older I keep worrying that this will be it. As more and more of her friends join the ranks of unbelievers, I keep thinking that this will be the year when she’s no longer able to suspend her disbelief and embrace the wholly improbable idea that some fat guy in a red suit holes up in the tundra all year with a bunch of elves who magically create the exact same stuff you can buy at WalMart and then bends the laws of time and space to sneak into kids’ houses to leave it under the tree and sneak a few cookies along the way. It hasn’t happened yet, but I keep waiting.

She’s clinging pretty hard to those beliefs, though. So hard that sometimes, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t start dropping some hints (and not just because it would be nice to get some credit for all that great stuff under the tree rather than dismissed as the person who gives her pajamas). Listening to her plan her show and tell last night was one of those time. Diva Girl, you see, plans to base her show and tell on “Why I Know There Is A Santa Claus.”

Her evidence, such as it is, is pretty compelling. The Squeaky Baby Santa returned to her after she lost it at the mall nearly a year before (not as easy as it sounds; that particular doll had been discontinued years before and it was only a fluke that I came across it in a thrift store a couple of weeks before Christmas.). The jingle bells Santa “forgot” when he stopped for a cookie break. The copy of The Polar Express Santa personally dedicated to her after she did such a good job taking care of the bells last time this happened (that Santa is a forgetful guy!), the magic Key Santa uses to get into our apartment. And of course, her letter from Santa (not one of the grinchy ones). It’s actually adorable to watch her assemble her arguments, and I feel no small amount of pride that I’ve been able to cast this magical spell for her, but I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea to allow her to go to school and start laying out her case to a bunch of cynical fourth graders.

So, what’s a mama to do? How do you join the message of “yes, there is a Santa Claus” with the idea of “maybe it’s not a good idea to talk about this with all your friends” without the jig being up? Do I let her go to school with all her paraphrenalia, ready to convince all those doubters in the existence of the Big Guy in Red, only to come home devastated that they teased her? Do I sit her down and have a chat about “The Spirit of Santa Claus”? How do I preserve the magic and her self-esteem in a situation where the two ideas seem to be mutually exclusive?

Update:  Sometimes Diva Girl’s teachers actually come through.  Hard as I tried, I could not dissuade her from her show and tell plan.  Short of “Everyone will laugh at you and call you a baby,” there was no convincing her that this was a bad plan.  So, I let her go, hoping that the other kids wouldn’t be too cruel, and that she wouldn’t come home too crushed. I know at least some of them still want to believe, so I was hoping they’d provide some support and cushion the blow.

None of that proved necessary, however.  Diva Girl’s teacher handled this beautifully–exactly the way I would have, actually.  Her approach was simple, no fuss, no muss, and avoided the mockery, the teasing, and the possibility of a full scale Santa war on the last day before Christmas vacation.  What was her brilliant solution?  She simply didn’t manage to find time today for show and tell.  Diva Girl is of course bitter that she missed her chance in the spotlight, but I’m going with small price to pay.