“So, who is Santa?” asked my five-year-old son as we drove to school one morning. Kids always save the big questions for car trips, don’t they? I guess they know that it’s the best time – no social media distractions, no “It’s time for bed, ask me in the morning” excuses, no escape.
I hesitated for a moment to consider my options. If I told him the truth would it ruin Christmas? If I lied would I feel like a hypocrite? Is it stupid that I introduced the concept of Santa in the first place?
“Well,” I finally replied, glancing in the rear-vision mirror, “The thing is, Santa’s not real. It’s just the parents. Me and Dad. We get you all the presents.”
“Oh,” my son replied. He was silent for a moment, so I turned the radio on, hoping for a bit of Katy Perry to lighten the mood. Then he said, “What about the Easter Bunny?”