Just Believe by Andrea Santo Felcone

As a parent, you may worry about accidentally ruining childhood traditions–especially around the holidays. You may worry that you won’t be crafty enough, clever enough–stealthy enough–to pull off traditions like Santa or The Tooth Fairy. You may ask yourself: Am I deceptive enough to be a parent?

After all, YOU don’t want to spoil any fun traditions for your children. But maybe you aren’t up for the task? I know my parents “slipped up” by not hiding the Christmas wrapping paper. I had read Nancy Drew often enough to easily spot: “The Mystery of The Ill-hidden Wrapping.” And come to think of it, didn’t the handwritten “Santa,” look oddly familiar? (To his credit, Dad had to hide his handwriting really well–our last name was “Santo”.)

But, now that I was a mom, I wouldn’t make those mistakes. I’d heard the Tooth Fairy horror stories. Those Moms, so busy watching “Scandal,” they fell down on the job. The next morning, when they finally remembered the tooth, they tossed a $20.00 bill (due to guilt) over the side of the child’s bed, pretending the Tooth Fairy had flown off-course. Not me, I wasn’t going to be a tradition-wrecker.

Turns out I didn’t need to worry about any of this. Because, no matter what I may have done wrong; it was nothing compared to the myriad ways my children have ruined their own childhood traditions—for me. Never in a million years would I have predicted this role reversal. Don’t get me wrong, my children didn’t intentionally try to spoil things. They are kind-hearted, loving children. They were only applying logic and curiosity to situations–and isn’t that what I wanted? Didn’t I want children that questioned things and didn’t take things at face value?

Well sure, EXCEPT–during certain times of the year.

I wanted, like the airlines, a certain “blackout period”: dates when logic would NOT apply.

A period of time when all they could do was—BELIEVE.

But, instead, I got this:

1. THE TOOTH FAIRY: When my firstborn lost his first tooth, I was excited to partake of this ritual. I explained that we would slide his tooth under his pillow and the Tooth Fairy would replace the tooth with some cold hard cash.

Well, I don’t know if I really hammered home that this would occur–in the middle of the night–or if I had just given him some powerful “stranger danger” lecture, but the whole thing completely backfired. Ten minutes after tuck in, he came running out of his room–freaking out. He didn’t want anything to do with the Tooth Fairy. “Let her keep the money.” There was no way he was going to sleep peacefully knowing some stranger was rooting under his pillow, taking a tooth he’d spent 7 good years with, and leaving him nominal change. “I don’t even know what she looks like,” he reasoned.

We had to create a “makeshift pillow” (in our bedroom) where the Tooth Fairy could complete her transactions. (The thrill was gone: just toss some coins next to the alarm clock and go to sleep.) After that, it was hard to rally around the loss of subsequent teeth.

2. TRICK-OR-TREAT: I was eager to enjoy Halloween with my then four-year-old son. We started by distributing candy. “Business” was slow, so he started “hawking” the candy the only way he knew how: “We’ve got rectangle candy! We’ve got circle candy!” I thought I’d give him a break from his circus barker routine, and take him out for his first time ever–trick-or-treating. A rite of passage for the both of us. Just as we’re about to go, he asks this stunner: “Why, exactly, are we doing this? Why do we need to go out for candy, when we already have this giant bowl of candy here?”

As a child, I’d never asked “why” we were doing anything that involved: “Put your coat on we’re going door-to-door to get chocolate from the neighbors.” You had me at “chocolate.” But, when you look at it logically: Why are we doing this? I mumbled something about this being a “candy exchange holiday”. One that requires you NOT eat your own candy, but instead the candy of others—after a thorough inspection. (Hmm … why are we doing this?)

Trick-or-treating didn’t get any better as he got older. He and his best friend hobbling around like old men: “My feet hurt.” “It’s cold.” “Can we be done now?” As he shuffled past perfectly good homes, claiming: “That one looks sketchy.” (Code for: they hadn’t cut their grass.) It was almost too painful to watch. Fine, let’s go home and eat the candy in our own giant bowl.

3. SANTA: Things didn’t improve when December rolled around. My son’s Vulcan-logic brain kicked into hyper-drive: “How does Santa get into our home?” Me: “Through the chimney.” You may think a jolly fat man curiously sliding down a chimney with gifts–is quaint. My child was deeply suspicious of this activity. “Why doesn’t Santa use the front door, like a normal human being?”(I never once considered Santa’s “means of entry.” If you were bringing me a gift–end of story.)

It hasn’t stopped. Now, his younger brother is questioning everything. He thinks that Santa knows when “you’ve been naughty or nice” because he has “cameras in the walls” and has enlisted the Easter Bunny’s “Peeps®” to spy on us. (How those marshmallow bunnies with eyes ON THE SIDES OF THEIR HEADS are going to do this, is beyond me.)

Why can’t my kids JUST BELIEVE? There’s nothing underhanded, odd, or paranoid in these childhood traditions. Just a fairy who takes children’s teeth for kicks; candy from strangers when you already have your own; a fat man sliding down a chimney when there’s a perfectly functional door. (O.K., now I hear it). But kids, for once, can we put logic on the backburner and … JUST BELIEVE?

P.S. I hope those “logic blackout dates” kick in soon–my youngest is about to lose his first tooth.