Santa will find you
By Aleksa Petrov - http://www.belygorod.ru/img2/Ikona/Used/302ALEX1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11315660
Despite my best efforts, Santa found his way into my house. Long before any of my four children were born, I was firm in my conviction that they would not believe in the tradition of Santa. I had many well-articulated reasons behind this, similar to those of other Santa-rejecting parents: I wanted my children to trust me (to believe that if I say something, they can know it is true); I had concerns about the socioeconomic implications (why does Santa bring expensive gifts to some children but not others?); and I took issue with the commercialization of Christmas (the secularization of the holiday has caused us to lose sight of its true meaning). Most importantly, I insisted that my children would never feel like they were missing out. After all, Santa is based on the very real St. Nicholas, who is far superior in every way! My husband, who didn’t have a strong opinion on the matter, was happy to go along with my stance—which, I’ll admit, occasionally felt reminiscent of the “I don’t let my kids watch VeggieTales because Larry the Cucumber turns kids gay” trope. (I say this in good humor, but if this sounds like you, too, it’s worth asking yourself: Is banning VeggieTales or modern Santa lore really the hill you want to die on?)
My four children came in rapid succession, each born within a year of the one before. Life felt like a blur for those first few years with so many babies in the house, but I held firm in celebrating Christmas and observing Advent the way I had envisioned. We did a Jesse Tree and lit an Advent wreath each year, held off on decorating until closer to Christmas Day, and limited gift-giving to three presents per child (to represent the gifts of the Magi and shift focus away from materialism). It was a joyful season in its own way, but with four little ones, meaningful catechesis often felt futile. For those years, we were really just surviving.
Recently, though, we’ve noticed a shift in our family dynamic. Our youngest is no longer a baby, and our oldest has moved beyond the toddler stage and now acts much more like a “big kid,” which has influenced her younger siblings to follow suit. In our home, it no longer feels like we’re rushing through the waiting and merriment, grasping at fleeting moments of reward between tantrums and car naps. We are entering a new phase of parenting where traditions feel more significant—though establishing them sometimes still feels like throwing spaghetti at a wall to see if it sticks.
So you can imagine my surprise when, despite my convictions and efforts, my oldest daughter casually brought Santa into our home. My husband was chopping vegetables for dinner, and I stood by the wall calendar, carefully planning the month ahead. My daughter, perched on a stool at the counter sipping water, was chatting away. I asked if there was anything she wanted for Christmas, and she enthusiastically replied, “Santa is going to bring me paint!” My husband and I exchanged a look—mine dismayed, his more amused. “You mean St. Nick is going to bring you paint?” he corrected cheerfully. But she was resolute: “No, not St. Nick. Santa!”
Her exposure to Santa has been minimal—limited to the occasional holiday paraphernalia, a cameo in a Christmas movie at her grandparents’ house, or a playground conversation with another child. We haven’t hidden the concept of Santa, but we’ve treated it neutrally. We’ve never suggested that Santa watches her behavior or decides her gifts, nor have we claimed he’s real. We’ve acknowledged him as a character, nothing more. Yet somehow, she connected Santa’s mythology to her own experience of Christmas, despite our lack of encouragement.
That evening, I lay in bed reflecting on the prominence of Santa in modern culture. It’s true that Santa can be conflated with secularism and materialism, overshadowing the Incarnation—the profound truth of God becoming man in Christ. My initial thoughts about Santa are often tied to the excesses of the season: the overemphasis on gifts, indulgence, and gaudy music. But on further reflection, I found it intriguing that even our secular culture celebrates Christmas with a figure rooted in a Christian saint. It’s heartwarming to think that anyone celebrating Christmas is, in some way, acknowledging the birth of Christ, even if not fully. The holiday is inherently Christian, and Santa is, at his core, a nod to Christian tradition. Any distortion of the holiday or its symbols is beyond the grasp of a four-year-old, who knows only two things: that we are celebrating the birth of Baby Jesus and that Santa will bring a gift for this very happy occasion.
That day, we did some St. Nicholas-themed activities as a family to deepen her understanding of the historical figure behind Santa. While we won’t be encouraging the belief that Santa brings gifts, we also won’t stifle her imagination. After all, St. Nicholas, in all his forms, has been inspiring wonder in children for over 1,700 years—a tradition rooted in generosity and joy that transcends cultures. If Santa helps her experience the season with excitement and leads her to contemplate Christ’s birth, who am I to complain?
Santa is innocent. It’s us grown-ups who still have work to do.
