Simply Mother

A Christmas post is coming, complete with pictures of some cute (and maybe some not-so-cute, but no less loved) hand-made gifts. But if you’ve read any of my blogs in the past, you know about me and uploading pictures from the camera. So, you know, don’t hold your breath or anything.

It was wonderful though, spending the morning at home with just our little family, and then going to Matt’s parents’ for the afternoon and a delicious Christmas dinner. Matt even stayed up till 1 in the morning making his delectable cinnamon rolls for the occasion. Well, we were playing Santa Claus some of that time too, and helping restless little girls fall asleep.

The whole Santa thing? I once wrote a post about how I just couldn’t conceive of telling a lie to my children, and how I especially didn’t like the idea of doing it in conjunction with something so sacred. I’ve heard of kids growing up to find out Santa wasn’t real, and at the same time having all kinds of misgivings about whether Christ was real, or if someday someone was going to tell them that was all a big story too. I mean, I don’t think most kids experience that, and I don’t think it isn’t something that can’t be overcome with prayer and honest conversation with parents, (Truth is Truth, and it will always be there for those who honestly seek it) but, I don’t know–I just want my kids to know that they can always come to me for complete truth (as I see it).

But. Now Sarah’s a bit older (when she was 3 I couldn’t even bring myself to explain Santa in the same sentence as Jesus, because from my observations of how her mind figured things out at the time, it just didn’t seem right to intertwine the two). She’s older now, and though I know her understanding of fantasy vs. reality is still very far from the way adults view it, at least her verbal skills are good enough that I can explain a distinction between a made-up story and one I believe is true.

She’s still really grasping at the concept though. Just today she asked me if the things that happened on “The Muppet Movie” (thanks, Mom and Dad!) happened “in real.” I wish I could see into her brain and know how she sees things, but I guess it wouldn’t make much of a difference. I thought it might be helpful so that I could know how to explain it to her, but upon reconsideration, I think it’s just something she’ll have to grow into. I think kids understand things a certain way for a reason, and when they’re developmentally ready to understand things “correctly,” they will.

(Correctly is in quotes because, who knows if our view is even totally correct? I don’t think it is at all. There is sooo much we don’t understand, and probably just aren’t capable of understanding, with these mere mortal brains. But that’s actually a whole ‘nother post I have in the works, you’re so lucky!)

Anyway, as I was saying: But. Sarah’s at the age where the magical, fanciful world of pretend and imagination is just so delightful for her! And I’m having a bit of trouble knowing how to allow for and encourage those kinds of things, without feeling like I’m being a bit deceitful. I usually just play along with her of course, when she tells me I’m this or that, or states something IS when reality is pretty much the opposite. She seems to want me to play it out with her, and I do.

But sometimes it seems like she’s testing my reaction in a way too. You know, like saying “The couch is purple,” when it’s most obviously not and we’re both sitting right on it and she kind of has a questioning look. Is she asking me to contradict her? (She does seem to love the ongoing, yes-it-is-no-it’s-not-type arguments with Jade!) Or does she want me to agree with her, and gush over the lovely purpleness of our livingroom furniture? I don’t think I ever really do the first (because I’m not so fond of the yes-it-is banter!), but I sometimes do the second and other times just look at her quizzically, or ask her to tell me more about it or something.

Anyway, Santa. So I wanted her to have the fun experience I had as a child and told her about the milk and cookies thing and she thought that was a good idea so we baked up some chocolate chips. While we were baking, my mom called and during the conversation mentioned something about sending some cookies (or was it cinnamon rolls?) with Santa on his sleigh to her house. Sarah kindly informed her grandmother that “Well, he’s not real, so I don’t think that would work.” But she left them out for him nonetheless, and was excited to read his thank-you note in the morning. Though if you ask her, she’ll tell you she doesn’t know who ate them because Santa’s not real.

So I don’t know, this all seems kind of silly now. It’s like we’re caught somewhere in the middle. She knows he’s not real (I never even mentioned that fact this year, but I guess she remembered from last year when I explained that it was a fun story people like to pretend is real), but I’m still feeling a bit deceitful about not fully divulging everything I know. It’s like we’re both just wondering together who it could have been . . . but I have this secret information I’m choosing to keep from her?

Or am I just encouraging imagination and childish delight in fantasy?

Or am I mostly just doing my usual over-analyzing every little thing, even though she doesn’t seem the least bit confused or disappointed about any of it?

Filed in: child development • parenting • spiritual | December 26, 2008