After much research, I have concluded that Santa is not real. Apparently, everyone else has already discovered this. Despite the public consensus, parents continue to weave the lie of Santa for their children, engaging in a collective fiction that grows more elaborate every year. Mall Santas, elves on shelves, and the NORAD Santa tracker appear to be desperate attempts to prop up a myth that crumbles under the least scrutiny. Are parents not coddling their children with this fantasy? Are they not just postponing disappointment until the truth is revealed? True, Santa is a bloated lie that few people over the age of ten believe. But just because he’s not real doesn’t mean he’s not useful.
Imagine you’re a parent. You’ve put off the shopping or you’ve forgotten the Christmas list at home. Your child has either asked for too much, asked for something you cannot find, or, even worse, has left you to guess what they want. Your knowledge of your kid and your tolerance for their demands are being put to the test. Unless, of course, Santa is the one responsible. Missing, misassigned, and misconstrued presents can be blamed on Santa’s improper judgment—not your forgetfulness.
If you ask your kids to write a cute little letter to Old Saint Nick, do them the favor of slapping on the stamp and putting it in the mail. Then, do the mailman a favor and don’t even send it. Rip that envelope open and get straight to it. While you credit the lesser gifts to Santa, you can claim responsibility for the big-ticket items. Compared to this Santa guy, you’re suddenly the gift-giver of the year. It may be far wiser, though, to let Santa have the biggest gift while you fill out the supporting cast. After all, the cooler Santa appears, the longer your kid will believe.
The lie need not stop when doubt begins to creep in. In fact, the less Santa is believed, the more instructive he becomes. Any question becomes a teachable moment. “How come in some books and movies Santa is with Mrs. Claus and in others he’s alone?” Marriage is hard. “How come the elves make all the toys but Santa gets the cookies and the credit?” Duh, labor is undervalued in capitalist society. “How come Santa can get into our house even though we don’t have a chimney?” I don’t know, but when you get your own place, get good locks.
Eventually, the jig will be up. Your kid will fall victim to a clever classmate or malicious older sibling or their own doubts, and the truth will be revealed. The last gifts Santa gives are a mistrust of authority and the realization that the belief systems we hold dear often collapse under the least scrutiny—gifts that truly last a lifetime.
But Santa isn’t only for believers. Santa somehow sticks around even when no one buys into his schtick anymore. When it comes to giving gifts to family and friends, attributing your gift to Santa is a great way to side-step the discomfort you have with emotional intimacy of gift-giving and the fear you have of appearing like you actually care for those you love. Even better, taking on the pseudonym of Santa can make you appear humble, even though everyone knows it’s you that brought the $70 gift to the $20 gift exchange.
Santa may be a symbol of generosity and kindness, but he is only a symbol. Even if it’s against everything he stands for, Santa is best used selfishly. He’s not here to show us what we love about giving gifts, but to mask all the inevitable awkwardness that comes with it. So, next time you show up to a holiday occasion with a gift destined to disappoint, put Santa’s name on the tag, sneak it in the pile while no one’s looking, and, if anyone asks, refer all complaints to the North Pole.
