What Would Santa Do?

Gianni has unwittingly forced a moral dilemma in our house. A few days ago, before my surgery while I still had two functioning knees, I went out to Pearl Street Mall to stock up on stocking stuffers for the kids. I went to their two favorite stores, Into the Wind (cool tchotchkes) and Powell’s Candy (uh-huh), and picked out some choice trinkets and treats.

I try to be reasonably mellow about the holidays but I am pretty psycho about the stockings. It all goes back to the year when my dad forgot to pick up stocking stuffers for us and had to make do with whatever was available at the nearest gas station convenience store. We woke up the next morning and discovered that Santa had deemed us worthy to receive a pecan divinity log, some circus peanuts, a pine tree air freshener and a can of Turtle Wax. It was almost as traumatizing as Christmas at Denny’s, which I still can’t bring myself to talk about.

Anyway, no matter what, I try to make an effort to show that Santa cares with some good candy and decent toys, quality rather than quantity (pine air fresheners are a dime a dozen—no, REALLY). So again this year, I chose with care and stashed the stocking stuffers in the garage, out of sight.
OR SO I THOUGHT.

I discovered yesterday, thanks to my friend/spy GerRee, that Gianni ‘fessed up to her that he went a-snooping in the garage and found the stocking stuffers. But he doesn’t KNOW that they’re for the stockings, he just assumes they’re cool loot. And therein lies the dilemma.
Gianni is nine—I suspect he knows there’s no Santa, but we’re in that awkward period where either the secret is somehow out, or they still believe, or more likely everyone is playing in an elaborate charade to keep the Santa thing going and extend childhood just a little longer.

So in terms of stocking stuffers, what do I do? I have neither the time nor the mobility to go out and pick up different stocking stuffers. Nor do I want to—I’m not buying more stocking stuffers just because that little squirt can’t stay out of the hidey hole in the garage. Do I just give him the original stuff and we all acknowledge that Santa time is over for Gianni? Do I withhold the stocking because he was such a stinker? (NONONO I cannot do this. A pine air freshener pales in comparison to not getting ANY stocking at all.) Or do I try to cobble something else together? The Conoco station is just down the street…..

I’m leaning toward the first option. Gianni is a smart kid. I have a hunch he figured out this whole Santa thing long ago. It just makes me feel a twinge that we are at the point where Santa becomes an acknowledged myth and not the magic that the little kids experience. It’s just another sign that my little boy is not so little anymore. But I also feel that it’s time to acknowledge that and give him a role in the next phase of Christmas—giving and planning and keeping Santa cool for Tea for at least a few more years. After all, she just lost her first tooth—her own transformation from little girl into big one is not far behind.

I think it’s just harder this year because I’m sitting here with my knee propped up and wrapped in ice and I feel like I’m just barely holding this Christmas together anyway. But in the end, it’s all about the fundamentals—getting to spend time together after months of crazy work hours. Laughing about traditional Christmas craziness. Eating tamales. Seeing friends. That stuff is still here, and will be long after Santa is just some dude at the mall. And if I can hang on to that this crazy year, of all years, it will all be okay.

Julie Polito is writer living in Boulder, Colorado with her two children and her bad puppy. Her blog, Confusion and Delay has chronicled her adventures since she was a carefree young thing of 35. Check it out for a dose of mid-aught nostalgia.