The Santa thing is a hard one. We ask our children to believe what we tell them:
eat your carrots they are good for you,
listen to your teachers, brush your teeth. What we tell them is part protection, part prevention, and one part sales pitch. The sales pitch is the one tool parents pull out most often: okay Jimmy, if you don't (fill in the blank) or if you do (fill in the blank) this is what will happen. It is do what I want and I'll either give you what you want (if you stop screeching you can watch Sponge Bob) or if you do what I don't want you to do, you better watch out. Even good ol' Santa, the kind-hearted and generous spirit of giving, evidently holds the sales pitch guillotine over their innocent heads, or so the song tells us:
you better watch out you better not cry you better not pout. It is good for kids to behave, to be respectful, to take care of their bodies, to learn to get along, to give their parents and everybody else within earshot a break and not scream and shout. And I think it is good for children to have something big and amazing to dream and wonder about, to hope for, and to believe that there is this mysterious and unseen entity out there who cares for them. In our home we answered the "if Santa loves everybody then why do some kids get nothing and other kids get a lot of somethings and isn't it weird how poor kids seem to get nothing and rich kids who already have everything, get so much more" question by explaining that everyone gets exactly what they need. Non-believers, of course, sometimes get nothing. Sometimes they are surprised and get that tiny spark of a dream glowing in their hearts awakened. Wealthy children get lots and lots of stuff, sort of a dudley Dursley-esque Christmas, with more than they can possibly use or play with, or enjoy. The reason is that when people get too much that is exactly what they need as well. The want hole in them is tremendously big and needs constant filling, and the lesson clearly needs to be constantly shown to them; a friend of mine said to her 8 year-old, who followed a trail of gifts down the long winding staircase,
that she just wanted her to feel a sense of abundance on her birthday. The sad thing is that a feeling of abundance has little to do with seventeen new miniature outfits and custom carry-on luggage for the American Girl doll, under the tree or spilling down the stairs, or wielded like the big Whack-A-Mole hammer over a child's head: be good and abundance will follow. If there is a want hole, the only way to fill it is to close it, easier said than done obviously, and of course, nobody wants a dollop of anti-capitalism on Christmas Eve served up with the soy-nog. That said, the folks who gets the mostest usually wants the mostest, and we should pity them. When you are happy, truly happy with whatever you have, that is the greatest gift of all. It is, truly, a rare and wonderful thing. Which is why so few of us have it.
