The Politics of Santa
by Kelli Wheeler
Just like in politics, some believe and others don't
Prior to the presidential elections I was trying to explain to my 7-year-old daughter, Whitney, at her request, the difference between Democrats and Republicans.
“Basically, you have two groups of people who believe in two different ways to do things,” I tried to explain as simply as possible. “Not one way is right or wrong, but just different beliefs.”
I paused to look at her, gauging her response, hoping my answer was sufficient and she would go back to coloring. The last thing I needed was a political debate with my second grader and another person I couldn’t talk politics with.
To my surprise, she not only got it, but summed it up this way: “Oh. So it’s like Santa Claus. Some people believe in him and some people
don’t.”
Suddenly, we were talking about one of the most important issues on our family ballot. I make it a point not to ask about people’s potentially contentious beliefs, such as party affiliations or if they loved or hated VH1’s “Rock of Love,” but I needed to know which side Whitney was on.
“What do you believe?” I asked, trying to stay calm. But really, I wanted to know who had gotten to her. Who had messed with my daughter’s innocence and prematurely tried to get her registered as a nonbeliever?
Whitney gave me a look that was an eerie glimpse of the future teenager she would become. It was coupled with a huff of exasperation at my obvious density, so out of touch with reality. “I believe in Santa Claus! But Sacsha and David in my class don’t.”
Excellent. She was giving me names. Now I could track these kids down and give them a piece of my mind for lobbying outside of their precinct.
“They don’t believe in Christmas. They believe in Hanukkah,” Whitney clarified.
Big sigh of relief - they were the equivalent of Green Party members. Valid party, but I'm not really too concerned they're going to steal the election.
The magic of Christmas was poised for victory, saved for another term, and I was relieved I didn’t have to go on the attack against a couple of second-graders and start a smear campaign aimed at their parents.
But it got me worried. My daughter was already grilling me about my party affiliation—tough questions about Santa were probably soon to follow. Add to that my son, Logan, is now 9, a prime target for unregistered voter canvassers. The fact is both my kids are beginning to ask intelligent and thoughtful questions about this world that’s starting to come into sharper focus for them.
My mother’s instinct wants to steer them away from difficult topics, protecting their innocence and simple view of the world for as long as possible—there’ll be plenty of time for them to deal with the realities and the weight that comes with expanded knowledge.
Still, I could see the point of the other side. How do you not lose your credibility and continue to impress upon your children the value of truth after they find out you’ve been lying and deceiving them for the good of the party?
I needed more information before I could decide which stance to take. To tell or not to tell? To choose reality over innocence, truth over idealism? I needed to know, at what age do you arm them with facts? At what point do you inflict harm by withholding the truth? When does it become necessary to advance their world and introduce them to reality?
Surprisingly, we still haven’t had a frank discussion about where babies and chicken nuggets really come from, let alone the truth about Santa. I realized if I was still going to have some control over how my children’s world is shaped, it just might be time to sit them down and tell them what a hot dog is really made of and why Joan Rivers looks the way she looks. I know my children are aware there’s more to the stories, but they’ve been content to let the spotlight of truth shine elsewhere.
Am I really ready to change their perception of the world forever? Are they ready and equipped to deal with it yet?
I conducted polls to help me decide. I also collected information from veteran constituents who’d been there before me—mom friends with older kids. I looked back into history, my own, and remembered the devastation of finding out too early about Santa and the influence it had on my development.
And I’ve made my decision. I’m joining my friend Tracy’s party, the Undeclared, whose motto is, “You’ve got to believe to receive.” There’s no commitment to the far left or right, but a safe middle ground until the kids are ready to take a stance.
When it is time I will tell them. But the time is not now. They should be worrying about issues such as do they want to play soccer, or wall ball, at recess? Is this person someone I want to be friends with? Could SpongeBob take Mickey Mouse in an arm wrestle? Not the implications of turning their back on something they believed in with joy and conviction to step forward into a scary world where Santa Claus is just a representation of childhood innocence and it’s time to grow up.
I choose to believe in innocence. And that SpongeBob takes Mickey easy.