Mommy, do you think Santa is real?

This morning one of the kids asked the question that at least one of them inevitably asks every year: Mommy, do you think Santa is real?

I’ve struggled with this in the past. How should I answer?

My response is always the same: Well, what do you think? Do you think he’s real?

Every year they reply with Yes!

Numbers 3 through 7 still believe. But Number 3 is ten years old. And he’s in middle school.

It’s only a matter of time before he realizes that there isn’t an actual Santa Claus. And Number 4 isn’t far behind.

And what will I say to them then? What will I say to them on that day Number 3 walks in the door from school and tells me he knows that my husband and I are really Santa?

I have thought a lot about this.

I have thought about all the people who don’t “do Santa.” Who don’t want to lie to their children. Who believe Santa teaches selfishness and greed.

Yes, I know Christmas is supposed to be about the birth of Jesus.

But really, to me, this time of year is about reminding you that the world is full of incredible people. That miracles happen.

And I am happy to give my kids the ability to believe in miracles. To believe in the impossible.

Whether that belief comes from someone who turned water into wine, rose from the dead, or travels around the world delivering gifts to every child on Earth in one night doesn’t really matter to me.

Maybe they believe in Jesus. Maybe they believe in Santa. Maybe they believe in the power of the universe.

I don’t really care.

Mostly, I just want them to believe.

Because I do.

And because there will be times in their lives when something so terrible happens that they need to have hope. To believe in magic. And miracles.

So no, I don’t have a problem with my children believing in Santa.

Santa doesn’t teach selfishness and greed.

Parents do.

When the kids are older, I will tell them how Santa initially is known to you as a magical man who delivers presents to you while you sleep. And then, eventually, Santa changes. He’s not that man dressed in the red suit anymore. He takes the form of other people who make magic happen in your life.

I will tell them the story of how, when my husband and I were in year one of the worst financial situation of our lives, Santa took the form of complete strangers who left me this:

And this:

I will tell them how Santa was the girl I used to babysit for, now a full grown woman and mother of three, unexpectedly sending me a box of clothes when I didn’t know how the hell I was going to buy clothes for my eight-year-old son.

I will tell them how Santa is the friend who just the other day tied a beautiful L.L. Bean jacket for Number 4 to my front door unbeknownst to me.

Do you know what it feels like to open your front door and see that on the handle? It feels like Santa just stopped by your house. Even when you are a grown up.

I will tell them how Santa is the blog reader and complete stranger who bought a brand new American Girl doll for Number 5 this year. Or the other complete stranger who sent me a karaoke machine for Number 4 and a remote control car for Number 6.

I will tell them how Santa is the mom in town is going to teach Number 4 to knit for Christmas. For free. Just because.

I will tell them how year after year, even in the midst of crisis after crisis, Santa always found a way to show up at our house at Christmas. No matter what.

Maybe it was Santa. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was my little brother up in heaven watching over me.

Who knows.

What I do know is that I believe.

And that’s what Santa is for me.

Santa is hope and the kindness of strangers. Santa is the belief in magic, and the belief in the impossible. Santa is miracles happening at just the right time.

And so the next time they ask that question, I’m not going to answer it with another question.

The next time I’m asked, “Mommy, do you think Santa is real?”, I’m going to answer with, “Yes. Absolutely. I one hundred percent think Santa is real.”

Because does it really matter? Does it really matter who you believe is the one capable of performing miracles?

Does it matter if it’s Jesus or Santa or Buddha or Allah or a freaking rock for that matter?

I don’t threaten the kids with lumps of coal or that Santa won’t come if they don’t behave. Just like people don’t threaten you that God won’t love you when you fuck up.

They simply know that once a year, Santa is coming.

No matter what, magic happens. No matter what, a miracle takes place once a year.

And if that gets them to believe that magic can and will happen, as long as you believe, that’s all I care about.

Santa is a metaphor. He’s a principle by which to live your life.

Santa is a reminder that what you put out there will come back to you.

It may be immediate. It may be years later.

Santa is a reminder to do good. And that there is good.

Even in terrible times, even in the face of tragedy, there is good everywhere.

As long as you believe.