The Ends of the Earth: Father Christmas

Liam with Embassy Santa

In many ways I feel like Jason and I slipped into this Christmas without a Santa game-plan. Charlie's curious mind is firing away questions about Santa (How does Santa's sleigh fly? Why do elves wear gloves? How will Santa get to our house if we don't have a chimney???). Reflecting on my own childhood, I was devastated when my 7-year old younger sister (I was 9) broke the news to me that Santa wasn't real. I had become a little evangelist for the existence of Santa, and I just really felt deceived and disappointed... Equipped with these memories, I was ready to raise our kids letting them participate in Santa activities but being truthful about the fact that Santa wasn't real. That is... until we were at Charlie's preschool and in front of his little buddies he said that his teachers told him Santa WAS real. It hit me that we were possibly about to create the bratty, know-it-all little kid that cruelly dashes the dreams of his little friends... Can Charlie handle the truth in a mature manner without declaring it to everyone he sees? At four years old??? I really don't think so... So I feel like we are in a bit of a conundrum... I think we will wrestle with this the rest of this Christmas season and pray for more vision for next Christmas.
So - we jumped full-throttle into Santa world this Christmas. We saw the Santa parade last week, followed by Santa at preschool, Santa at an Embassy function and Santa at our playgroup. I was startled by the final Santa encounter at playgroup. A soft-spoken older gentlemen with a flowing white beard was Santa at our playgroup at the Anglican church (I suspect he is one of the Anglican priests?). Unfortunately his Santa suit was missing an undershirt resulting in thick gray and white chest hair erupting from his Father Christmas suit. It was weird, and I chalked it up to a "Kiwi" thing, until I saw the hushed reactions of other mom's in the group. Thankfully, they thought it was also a little strange...