First of all, I have a bit of a checkered past when it comes to Santa Claus. In fact, as a child, I was terrified of anything or anyone in a costume. I can recall hiding from clowns, Disney characters, Chuckie Cheese, and, yes, Santa Claus. There is the story of my grandfather taking me on a long trip to see Santa Claus, and once I got there, I refused to sit on his lap. I hid. I have no idea why I was so frightened, but in truth, it took me a very long time to overcome that fear.

Santa Claus was a part of my world as I was growing up. I can recall an extraordinary story during the time my parents were divorced. We were living in Long Beach, Washington. My mom, brother, and I were over at my Uncle Frank’s and Aunt Ingrid’s (who just passed away) house, and somebody dropped hints that Santa would be dropping by. Someone went out without my knowledge and played the sleigh bells. They shouted, “Santa Claus is here!” Due to my irrational fear, I recoiled in terror. I refused to go out and see what gift Santa left for me. Of course, I didn’t turn down the gift when it was brought to me. It was a plastic cow that would drink water if you pumped its tail, and then you could “milk” it later. I was obsessed.

When did I discover that Santa wasn’t real? Well, I was around six or so, and I remember standing in my grandparents’ house (this was during the divorce), and I just said, “Mom, is Santa Claus real? Is it you?” She immediately confirmed my suspicions, and I went on to ask her about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy as well. I was glad she told me the truth.

I have heard how some children feel betrayed when they learn the truth, but not me. It did not scar me for life or anything. It just made sense, and I moved on. It didn’t mess me up for life, nor did it interfere with my spiritual walk.

When my daughter was born, I made a point that I didn’t want to lie to her about Santa Claus. I wanted to teach her about the tradition of Santa, but I never wanted to tell her he was real. Unfortunately, the man I was kind of dating at the time decided to tell her all sorts of stories about Santa as if they were real. While I wasn’t happy, it never messed her up either. She put out milk and cookies for years.

Yes, as a child, even after I stopped believing in Santa Claus, I put out cookies and milk for Santa, but we always added a carrot for the reindeer. Even though I no longer believe in Santa Claus, I love the tradition, and I always loved the art that depicted Santa bowing before the Christ Child. Then again, if you ever saw my nativity scenes when I was growing up, I had everything from five wise men to some random saint at the manger scene. I was always a bit of a non-traditionalist. Something of which I am still quite proud to this day!

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