Arthro-Pilates and Lupus





Believing in Santa Claus: The gift of Childhood

Fall is almost over, Thanksgiving has passed and the mayhem of Halloween is just a distant memory in the minds of parents everywhere. Christmas is just around the corner, lights prepared to be displayed and thoughts of Christmas trees,  presents and Santa Claus inhabit the minds of our children.

And, although we see Santa in all the malls throughout our city and in the Christmas specials on television, do we tell our children the truth? That Santa Claus is not real?

I remember as a child telling a neighborhood boy that there was no such thing as Santa. After all, I was eight years old and my parents believed in telling us the realities regarding Christmas.  Given the fact that we were jewish, it didn’t seem to matter if Santa was a figment of our imagination or not.  The little boy stood there in tears, as I spoke the truth, and his mother looked on in anger.  I had destroyed his childhood fantasies and now she would be responsible for explaining how all those presents got under his tree.  But she was going to show us!  On Christmas morning my family awoke to bags of presents on our doorstep with a card marked from Santa.  Screams of glee from me, my sister and our two brothers had my mother in an outrage.  She couldn’t exactly return the gifts as she didn’t have clear proof as to whom they were from and besides, her children were happy. Even though my mother tried to explain emphatically that these gifts were from a living breathing person, we new the TRUTH,  that they were indeed from Santa and he was real after all.

So the question remains: Do we tell our children the cold hard facts about that man in red coming down the fireplace chimney or do we let them believe a lie? Do we continue to dress up, white beard and bulging stomach, continue to take our children to sit on Santa’s knee and to allow our little loved ones to believe that jolly old Saint Nick will be delivering their presents, sled pulled by Rudolph, elves and all? I suppose it’s a personal decision that every family has to make on their own.

I can only tell you this: On that particular Christmas morning, I was probably the happiest little girl in the city of Toronto. As I sat there playing with my new Barbie doll my faith and my imagination was restored. Life would soon be harsh enough and I was glad that for a little while longer I was allowed to be a child and to just BELIEVE.


©Lori Weisbrod


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