I love finding old Christmas cards at estate sales. It's even more interesting when the people who saved the cards -- in a box in the garage, a scrapbook, or in a bag in a drawer -- wrote down the year they received the cards.
These images of Santa Claus, for example, date to the mid-1950s.
I guess the senders liked the idea of Santa saying hello!
But sooner or later you may find yourself in the sticky position of having to "explain about Santa" to a young person who's getting older, and is at the age where they need to understand that Santa is just a...well, you know what I mean.
Here's a blog post from a couple of Christmases ago, to help you through your difficulty.
Telling
the Truth about Santa Claus
This
image of Santa Claus on some old Christmas gift wrap I found at an estate sale
earlier this year, makes me think about how we talk to kids about Christmas.
I
was recently given the unenviable task of explaining the truth about Santa
Claus to a young gentleman of about 10. (Some of his relatives have kept the
legend of Santa alive for him.) The
request that I explain about Santa came from the young man's father, who feared
that his son, who was old enough to know the truth, still believed the
fable. We had gone to see
"Santa" at a local Christmas light display the night before.
"So,"
I asked the young man, "did you enjoy seeing Santa last night and telling
him what you want for Christmas?"
"Yes,"
the young man replied.
"Yeah,
that guy was a pretty good Santa," I observed.
The
young man's brow furrowed a bit.
"What do you mean?" he asked darkly.
"Well,
do you still believe there's a Santa Claus?" (I tried to be
matter-of-fact, almost casual about the question.)
The
young man looked at me cautiously, his mouth open just a little. "Why did you say 'still
believe'?"
I
looked back at him over the top of my glasses for a long three seconds.
"You're
kidding," he said flatly.
I
didn't blink. I could see the wheels
turning. Obviously this was not a new
concept to him.
"So
-- Santa Claus is really just a legend, a tall tale?" he asked,
maintaining eye contact and genuinely curious.
"Yes."
"Oh!" The wheels continued to turn as he
contemplated this new truth.
"Maybe
it will help to think about it this way," I told him. "When you're a little kid, you need to
have hope. That means you need to have
something to look forward to, like Christmas presents!"
The
young man nodded. "Okay..."
"You
need to have faith, to believe in someone bigger than yourself, who brings the
presents. And you also need to know that your choices have consequences: If you
don't behave, your Mom and Dad tell you, Santa won't bring you any toys.
"It's
important that you learn all those things when you're a little kid, and the
legend of Santa Claus helps little kids understand."
The
young man digested this information. He
nodded again.
"But
now that you're older," I continued, "you can understand the
truth.
"You
have hope -- you can still look forward to Christmas!
"And
you have faith, that someone bigger than you will give you gifts.
"And
now you know that all those great Christmas presents -- as well as those
consequences for your choices -- didn't come from Santa Claus. They came from your Dad, who loves you very
much."
A
thoughtful silence ensued.
"And
really," I concluded, "what would you rather have? What's better? A once-a-year visit from some old guy in a
funny suit, who lives far away?
"Or
knowing that the gifts really come from your Daddy, who is with you all the
time, and loves you, and will keep giving you Christmas presents year after
year?"
The
silence continued, but the young man's eyes began to twinkle as he watched me.
"I
guarantee you," I said, "that a few days from now, you're going to
have a whole lot of presents under your Christmas tree. From your Daddy, and from your Mom, and even
some from me."
The
young man thought for another moment.
Then he smiled.
(Whew. You owe me one, Daddy.)
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