So, yesterday I had to do something that I had hoped I could avoid forever. I had to tell Mack about Santa.
Mack turned nine this month, and was therefore already a bit on the old side for “believing.” (The average age where kids find out is eight.) But he was very tied to the Santa myth, didn’t question it much, and accepted my answers to any questions he did ask me about the jolly old elf.
In fact, Mack seemed far less skeptical than his six-year-old brother, Aidan. Last summer, I said something about Santa and Aidan scoffed and said, “There is no Santa. It’s the parents.” While my jaw dropped in shock, Mack’s head whipped around and he fixed me with a stare, “Is that true?!” Somehow I got out of that one without much comment, but I’ve always had the feeling that Mack would believe for as long as he possibly could, while Aidan probably figured it out in preschool and just humors us.
This year I had considered telling Mack the truth, but I had decided to try to reach for one more year with the magic intact. However, logic intervened. The boys were downstairs playing video games, while Byron and I were upstairs. Suddenly, we hear the basement door slam open, and all the kids come running up into our room. Aidan was holding a big, empty box. It was the box his skateboard had come in. The skateboard that Santa gave him. Crap.
I had asked Byron to hold onto the box, just until we made sure there was nothing wrong with the skateboard and it didn’t have to go back to the store. He put it under a blanket in our back storage area. Apparently, Aidan went back there to get some batteries, got curious, and found the box.
So the three of them are standing in my room, Aidan brandishing the box, and Mack yells, “If Santa is real why do we have this box?” Aidan says, “Because it is Mommy and Daddy.” Reid is just watching and listening.
I replied, “Santa must have left it. He does that sometimes.” Aidan, “Then why was it in the basement under a blanket?” “Your Dad put it down there after Christmas morning.” Aidan cocks his head, and looks at me. I can see that he is deciding whether to accept this and move on, or whether to make this a really tough morning. Suddenly Mack exclaims, “Then why is there a price tag from Dick’s on there? If Santa made it, why does it say Dick’s?” Crap.
I said, “Mack, come here. Little boys, go downstairs.” They did as I said. I pulled Mack into my arms and – I will always remember this – he looked right in my eyes and softly said, “Is it you?” It was like he knew, but he didn’t really want to know. So I told him the truth. I am still not sure it was the right thing to do. But here’s the thing. I have a three year old in the house, who should get several more years of believing. If I don’t tell Mack now (I decided) he’s going to continue to unravel the mystery out loud, and therefore ruin it for his brothers. If he knows the truth, he’ll shut his mouth and his brothers can believe without interference.
At least that’s what I have to believe – that there was a positive reason I had to do this. Because it was hard to tell him.
Mack took the news well. I suppose by the time you are nine, a part of you already knows the truth. (Although the NORAD Santa Tracker goes a long way towards convincing even third graders.) We told him how now he is in on the secret, and has a responsibility to help the younger kids believe for as long as they can. He promised not to say a word to his brothers or cousins. I hugged him and told him I was so sorry to have to tell him, but that it meant he was growing up and I was proud of him.
Even though he took it so well, I questioned my decision all day. I can’t imagine how hard it would be if you had a kid who really struggled with finding out the truth.
Although Mack is ostensibly a “gifted” child, it took him almost seven hours to approach me, as I was folding laundry, and ask, “The Easter Bunny…?” I had to say, “Yeah, buddy, that’s me and Daddy too.” Two hours later, at dinner, he pulled me aside and said, “What about the Tooth Fairy?” I just pressed my lips together and nodded my head sadly. He sighed and said, “So magic isn’t real.”