I have two sons. Ever since they were born I have tried to create a magical world for them when it comes to Christmas, wobbly teeth, Easter. I wanted them to feel the same way I did, when I was little, about Father Christmas, fairies ...
All went swimmingly for a long time. Each Christmas we would read stories by candlelight about The Polar Express, The Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol ... We would watch films about traditional Christmases and happy families touched by the warmth and magic of Santa, tooth fairies, Easter Bunnies ...
And then, one day, I went too far ... further than glitter sprinkled as fairy dust on my hearth, further than leaving teeth marks from Santa's reindeer on the carrots we left out ... One day I wrote a letter 'from Santa' to my son. I disguised my writing and wrote what I thought was a lovely heartfelt letter from a magical old man.
I reckoned without my son's razor sharp intelligence and powers of deduction.
He knew the letter was from me. He recognised my handwriting even though I had written with my left hand, in green ink, in curly wurly writing. He was not overjoyed to receive the letter, he was suspicious. That suspicion led to investigation and the investigation led to my house of magical cards crumbling before my very eyes.
In his eyes I had deceived him. All his life I had lied to him. About everything. Santa, The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny ( although, in my defence I don't remember introducing the Easter Bunny - even for me that seemed a step too far towards the ridiculous!!)
In his words "My whole life has been a sham." ... Difficult to take from an 11 year old. And strangely over-dramatic, I am tempted to say ...
So. Would I do the same again? My youngest son continued to believe until this year and the reality of the whole Father Christmas situation seemed to dawn on him without too much trauma. It was more a "Well, it was good while it lasted, Mum and do I still get presents even if there isn't really an old bloke who climbs down the chimney?" kind of scenario.
So ... two boys, two very different reactions. I think I would do it all again.After all, I think its part of my job as a mum to create a world of imagination and wonder for my children. I remember how I felt at Christmas and I wanted my boys to feel that same joy and excitement. But is it right to lie? I spend my whole time putting emphasis on how absolutely essential it is to be honest. Lies will always catch you out. And yet I lied through my teeth to them for the first 11 years of their lives when it came to such things.
I suppose its one of those things you can only decide for yourself when the time arrives. As a parent you just try your best to do the right thing.
All went swimmingly for a long time. Each Christmas we would read stories by candlelight about The Polar Express, The Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol ... We would watch films about traditional Christmases and happy families touched by the warmth and magic of Santa, tooth fairies, Easter Bunnies ...
And then, one day, I went too far ... further than glitter sprinkled as fairy dust on my hearth, further than leaving teeth marks from Santa's reindeer on the carrots we left out ... One day I wrote a letter 'from Santa' to my son. I disguised my writing and wrote what I thought was a lovely heartfelt letter from a magical old man.
I reckoned without my son's razor sharp intelligence and powers of deduction.
He knew the letter was from me. He recognised my handwriting even though I had written with my left hand, in green ink, in curly wurly writing. He was not overjoyed to receive the letter, he was suspicious. That suspicion led to investigation and the investigation led to my house of magical cards crumbling before my very eyes.
In his eyes I had deceived him. All his life I had lied to him. About everything. Santa, The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny ( although, in my defence I don't remember introducing the Easter Bunny - even for me that seemed a step too far towards the ridiculous!!)
In his words "My whole life has been a sham." ... Difficult to take from an 11 year old. And strangely over-dramatic, I am tempted to say ...
So. Would I do the same again? My youngest son continued to believe until this year and the reality of the whole Father Christmas situation seemed to dawn on him without too much trauma. It was more a "Well, it was good while it lasted, Mum and do I still get presents even if there isn't really an old bloke who climbs down the chimney?" kind of scenario.
So ... two boys, two very different reactions. I think I would do it all again.After all, I think its part of my job as a mum to create a world of imagination and wonder for my children. I remember how I felt at Christmas and I wanted my boys to feel that same joy and excitement. But is it right to lie? I spend my whole time putting emphasis on how absolutely essential it is to be honest. Lies will always catch you out. And yet I lied through my teeth to them for the first 11 years of their lives when it came to such things.
I suppose its one of those things you can only decide for yourself when the time arrives. As a parent you just try your best to do the right thing.
