The Truth About Santa

Posted: December 9, 2015 in Humor, Kids, Life, Parenting

As adults we’ve all faced it at some point, right? The dreaded question? That instant when we had to come clean and admit the massive untruth, the ultimate deception of our youth?

The moment we had to admit the BIG LIE?

The lie our parents had told us and that we’d passed down to our children?

Yes, the moment when we had to say those dreaded words . . . there is no Santa Claus.

Seriously, isn’t it the biggest fabrication ever? Even as we watch our children as they get that first glimpse of the presents Santa left, even then, aren’t we sort of shaking our heads and thinking, “Boy are you gonna be surprised someday.”

It’s sort of depressing really.

So this brings me to the moment when I had to make THE DECISION. To tell or not to tell?

It happened when my son Kip was perhaps 6 or 7-years old, I can’t be certain but I know he was around that age. It was a few days before Christmas and he and I were returning from Chillicothe after some shopping. I believe we’d gone to town to buy something for his mother, who I had divorced a few years prior. She and I had a good relationship, still do, and I’d helped him pick something special out for her. We were on our way to meet her when it happened. Out of the blue came The Question . . .

“Dad, can I ask you something? You said you’d always be honest with me.”

“Sure, anything buddy. You know that. Shoot.”

“Alright. Is Santa Claus real? A couple of the kids at school said he isn’t.”

Boom! The dreaded question. What to do? OK, let me think. Well, I’d read somewhere that if they were old enough to ask you should tell them the truth. In addition, I didn’t want my son to look like a fool to his friends. And there was that “I’ll never lie to you” thing, so . . .

I proceeded to tell him the truth, making sure to explain the whole “Santa is the spirit of Christmas” song and dance in great lengths. When I finished my spiel, he nodded his head, seemed cool with it, and even said this:

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Well, that went well. But then . . .

“But I asked mom yesterday and she said he was real.”

Oh, Good Lord. I’d really gone and done it now. Not only had I told him Santa Claus was a phony, I’d basically called his mom a liar. Not a good combination.

Well, at this point we were pulling up to meet his mom, so I told him to give me a second, that I had to talk to her privately for a minute.

There was no way this was going to go well.

I walked up to her car, leaned over, and we had this conversation:

“Well, I may have really screwed up this time.”

She just nodded her head, totally unsurprised. Me screwing up came as absolutely no shock to her.

“What happened?”

“Well, he asked about Santa Claus and I told him the truth.”

“You told him there was no Santa Claus?”

“I did. He asked and I told him.”

“Oh, thank God. He asked me yesterday and I wanted to tell him the truth but wasn’t sure how to do it.”

Whew. Crisis averted. I guess honesty is the best policy, even when involving old Saint Nick.

But man, that was a close one.


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