Jack and Breezy sit in their personal sitting room. Jack is wearing a gray and white long sleeve striped shirt with grey sweat pants and Breezy is adorned in a navy green flannel shirt and dark jeans. There is a crackling fire that creates a soft amber light in the cozy carpeted room, illuminating their faces with a warm glow. A large pot of hot chocolate simmers on a Bunsen burner and a Christmas tree sparkles in the corner, full of tinsel and colorful ornaments.
Today's discussion topic will be themed with the season. Should parents tell their kids about Santa Claus?
Breezy: Nyeghyegn. I am very conflicted about telling my future children about Santa Claus. I mean there is a central focus of the ideal of fantasy in children's lives, and I wouldn't want to rob that from my own children. But I don't want them to lose their trust and me and destroy their dreams when they find out the truth. So maybe I shouldn't tell them. But I also would hate for them to be the sourpuss kindergartner in school that says "My mommy said Santa Claus doesn't exist."
Jack: You don't want to tell your children about Santa Claus because they would be dicks on the playground? I think that's going to happen either way. The older kids that were told about Santa will be dicks to the younger kids and tell them that he isn't real, right?
Jack crosses his legs like a girl.
Breezy: Yeah, you have a point. I guess I just want to minimize the afflictions associated with narcissistic injuries like that. I want my children to believe in something enough that they will justify it to dicks on the playground and hold their own ground. I want them to wonder. I want them to see the world in a wonderful way, before they grow up and lose their fervor for fantasy.
Jack: Well now it sounds like you really want to your kids about Santa. But you're saying it like if you don't tell them, they won't have any wonder in their lives. Aren't there other ways to make a child curious and bold? And much more so than by the righteousness bestowed upon them by Santa Claus. Aren't there other ways to fill the gap created if you don't tell them about Santa? And then you wouldn't have to break the truth to them like you're so scared of.
Breezy: Maybe, maybe. But now I think I've decided to tell my children about Santa. Even if they praise the materialistic objectification of holiday consumerism instead of the person who actually worked hard to put the gifts under the tree.
Jack: I wonder if they would still be stupid little kids who whine over Christmas presents and don't appreciate the work of their parents. Maybe telling kids about Santa doesn't make any difference at all. I feel like I don't help my parents as much as I should, and then I still don't help them. Is that because I was told about Santa Claus when I was little?
Jack: I wonder if they would still be stupid little kids who whine over Christmas presents and don't appreciate the work of their parents. Maybe telling kids about Santa doesn't make any difference at all. I feel like I don't help my parents as much as I should, and then I still don't help them. Is that because I was told about Santa Claus when I was little?
Breezy: Alas, my affliction intensifies.
Breezy sighs dramatically.
Breezy: Well, here's a possibility: I could tell my kids that I fund all their gifts and a good samaritan named "Santa Claus" runs around wherever he can and helps deliver the presents. Like some sort of indigenous UPS delivery man. That happens to be a recluse that lives in subarctic conditions. That way, they can still appreciate how hard I've worked to buy their gifts, and they can enjoy a sense of holiday cheer and pseudo-fantasy. And I could teach them that society has turned "Santa Claus" into a tall tale and uses the idea of him as a key pivot in marketing. And then I can sit them down and discuss the difference between worshiping objects and identifying good deeds that show up in human nature.
Jack: Ah, but what about when the time comes to tell them that UPS Claus isn't real?
Jack: Ah, but what about when the time comes to tell them that UPS Claus isn't real?
Breezy has a mild seizure.
Breezy: Jack, are you trying to give me anxiety? I thought I had this all figured out.
Jack: Well I suppose you didn't.
Jack giggles and paws Breezy's face.
Jack: Is there any other convoluted scheme you can come up with to make sure your kids both have a sense of wonder and are not unappreciative?
Jack: Well I suppose you didn't.
Jack giggles and paws Breezy's face.
Jack: Is there any other convoluted scheme you can come up with to make sure your kids both have a sense of wonder and are not unappreciative?
Breezy: Well ma'am, I'd almost thought that I just figured it out until you so blatantly pointed out the paradoxical ideology of my scheming brain. Well, since you broke this down to such black and white terms, I guess that sorta simplifies it...
Breezy takes a deep breath and lays back in her chair.
Breezy: Well, assuming that my children are naturally curious beings-- like most children tend to be in their early ages-- they may start wondering why we set up a small tree in the living room and decorate it meticulously. And they may start wondering where the pretty presents came from. So maybe I'll just passively imply that mommy provided the pretty gifts as they get to an age where they legitimately appreciate what is provided for them, and learn that Christmas is a seasonal occasion, and leave them to question why this is happening. And then I will explain the basis of Christmas... also depending on religious affects... and designate the negativities towards the idea of a marketed holiday and deter them from such practicalities by going in depth on a further sense of childhood wonderment and telling them Yuletide tales about general "good-doers" that exist on this planet and how they have become objectified into the image of Santa Claus. And their sense of "wonderment" will be focused not on fantasy, but on the reality of the world. Because reality isn't always a bad thing... I can help them explore how good the world can be; how beautiful the act of giving is. And they won't need to believe that a jolly fat man is squeezing down our chimney and putting gifts under a random tree in the living room; wouldn't that also corrupt their idea of breaking into houses? They won't need to be the sourpuss on the playground, and they won't get disheartened when they come of age and move past the "childhood fantasies", because the only "fantasy" I will have established is that human decency exists and that's why people gift one another. So it won't necessarily be a "fantasy" because the idea of the image of Santa Claus will be the image of compassion and joy. The epitome of Christmas spirit. And how can you stop believing in human decency?
Breezy drops her imaginary mic on the floor and stares at Jack.
Jack: You're going to make a great mother. "Hehehe... stage two is complete. Now to inject the idea of "human altruism" into their feeble young minds. They are developing quite nicely. Especially the boy."
Jack: You're going to make a great mother. "Hehehe... stage two is complete. Now to inject the idea of "human altruism" into their feeble young minds. They are developing quite nicely. Especially the boy."
Breezy giggles and violently nudges Jack.
Breezy: Hah. Well. Maybe that's the kind of mother I'll be. You never know.
Breezy yawns and curls up in her chair.
Breezy: I think I'm content now. Thank you for helping me reach a conclusion in my inner matriarchal dilemmas. I don't know why these sort of things stress me out. I might not even have kids. Either way, I feel much better. I wish my parents had the same thought processes as you and I do. They fucked me up as a littl'un.
