The holiday season is fast approaching, and I find myself confronted with questions about my stance on Santa Claus. Am I one of “those people” who chooses to forgo the myth? The answer is yes—I believe in honesty over fantasy when it comes to my child.
This perspective may not sit well with my family and friends, but it’s essential to scrutinize the arguments that support perpetuating the Santa Claus myth. Many assert that it’s simply a cherished “tradition.” However, tradition alone doesn’t guarantee value. If we’re discussing traditions that foster family bonds and create lasting memories, I’ll admit that secular households might not replicate the same experiences as those rooted in organized religions.
Nevertheless, every December, my family gathers around a fresh Christmas tree, and I enjoy baking my favorite cookies while listening to a mix of holiday music. We have our own unique rituals: my son’s grandparents spend Christmas Eve at our home, we feast on a deep-fried turkey (which I often spend hours searching for the flavor injector for), and we share a meal filled with sausage-apple-cranberry stuffing and glazed carrots. We brew wassail, exchange gifts, and sometimes sing carols. My father reads “The Night Before Christmas” to my son, just as he did for me. The next day is filled with more gifts, relaxation, and, of course, cookies. This is what tradition means to us—Santa Claus is not a necessary component.
My goal isn’t to deny my son the joys of storytelling; rather, I want him to explore a variety of tales from around the globe. We don’t need to accept myths as factual for them to enrich our lives. Myths are meant to inspire and entertain, not to be seen as literal truth.
Proponents of the Santa myth often argue that it represents the magic of childhood. To suggest that I would deprive my child of this experience is quite narrow-minded. He enjoys a joyful holiday season filled with love and warmth. If we consider the data, countless Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Baha’i, Wiccan, and secular children have thrived into adulthood without the belief in a jolly figure delivering gifts from a sleigh.
Reflecting on my own upbringing, my parents embraced Santa Claus, but I don’t believe it added any value to my childhood. The character of Santa was more of a neighbor in a costume than a magical figure, and I quickly recognized the inconsistencies—his handwriting matched my mother’s, and he requested my dad’s favorite tuna sandwiches.
What I cherish most are the genuine holiday experiences: the tree, the carols, the cookies, and my family. The drive to instill the Santa myth seems to stem from our desire to relive childhood innocence, but I don’t feel that need. I find magic in the gathering of family, the return of the sun, and the triumph of finding that elusive turkey injector.
Isn’t that enchantment enough?
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In summary, questioning the Santa Claus narrative allows for a deeper appreciation of the traditions that truly matter. We can create meaningful memories without relying on fantastical myths—after all, the real magic comes from family and shared experiences.