One chilly afternoon in the fall of third grade, my oldest daughter, Scout, stomped down the stairs and into the study where I was – thank God – alone. She was carrying a ridiculously thick book, The Lives of the Saints, cracked open to the middle, and looked at me as if she had just solved the Amelia Earhart mystery. 

“You said that Santa Clause was St. Nicholas and this book says that St. Nicholas is dead.”

I normally keep The Lives of the Saints on the upper shelf in the study. There are some seriously gruesome things in there. I’d only lent Scout the book because she was doing a saint report in preparation for her first communion. But her report was on Saint Anne. She had no business whatsoever to be tooling around the N’s. It occurred to me that maybe she had asked for the book to solve the Santa mystery. 

Thankfully, I’d been thinking about this whole Santa talk for some time thanks to a heads up from – you guessed it – an older mom. In our house, we’d always kept the idea of Santa light and playful, but we had encouraged our kids to believe in him. We did that for a number of reasons. We wanted to pass down beloved traditions we’d grown up with. We wanted to give our children this rich imaginative experience. We wanted them to feel connected to our church and community and learn to embrace joy whenever and wherever they can. And, of course, Santa is just so damn fun. 

Santa can embody important family values

I wanted my children to believe in Santa for a serious reason as well. Learning to believe in the unseen is an important job of childhood. It lays the foundation, I think, for lifelong faith and hope. I wanted Santa to help me teach my children how to believe. 

Scout was still holding the open Saint book like a smoking gun, patiently waiting for me to concede her irrefutable point. 

“The book says he’s dead. It’s in the book,” she said. Books are powerful things in our house.

“Well, why do you think people believe in him then?” I asked, sitting on the sofa so I could be eye-to-eye with her. “The book says he died hundreds of years ago. All we really know about him is from stories. How generous he is and kind. How he loves every single child on earth and wants every one of them to be happy, to have a toy on Christmas morning. But I personally have never met him and I don’t know anyone who’s met him. In fact, I don’t know of anyone who’s actually seen him putting gifts under their tree. Yet people all over the world believe in him. Why do you think that is?”

Scout was listening intently but did not offer an answer, so I continued.

“I think it’s because, even though people don’t actually see him, every year they see his fingerprints. They see that there are gifts under trees and that people are more kind and generous with one another and with those in need. They see families come together to celebrate with special food and songs. There is more joy and goodness in the world because of Santa and people want to be just like him. If they bring the same charity and good will to the world that Santa brought, isn’t he alive in a way?”

Scout still looked skeptical.

“Faith – believing in something that you can’t see or prove – is a choice. There will always be reasons not to believe. When you come across something that makes you question, like you have today, you have a choice to make. You could choose to believe that Santa was a very good man who did many acts of charity and kindness and died a very long time ago. Or you could choose to believe that one man’s generosity was so great that it inspired generations of Santas, millions of Santas. You could choose to believe that there is no Santa or that today, right now, the world is filled with them.”

I thought this was a really beautiful little talk, and I was honestly a bit choked up having this conversation about the nature of truth and the question of faith with my oldest daughter.

“So,” Scout said, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “He’s dead then.”

(Pro tip: not everything goes to plan. Roll with it.)

The Santa talk is an opportunity for you to honestly share them, if . . .

I’ve given some version of this talk five times and every one of them has focused on meaning. Each of my kids reacted differently, but not one of them felt deceived or lied to. None of them cried or grieved or showed any sense of loss upon learning that Santa was somewhat different than they’d imagined him. Even Scout moved very quickly from “he’s dead then” to “so now I get to be a Santa?”

I think the conversations went well because my kids could tell I was sharing my world view honestly with them, introducing them to the idea that truth can be a very big and nuanced thing. Sometimes bigger than facts. Sometimes bigger than the names we try to squeeze it into. 

If you’ve got kids who believe in Santa, at some point you’re going to have to have the “Santa Talk.” I encourage you to think about it now, even if you don’t anticipate having it for some time. Kids have a way of doing things on their own timelines and beginning with the end in mind is always a good idea. 

Since that first “Santa talk,” I’ve picked up a few other tips that might help your own go well. The first is an old legal trope that adapts just beautifully to any number of parenting issues: answer the question you’re asked – only the question you’re asked. 

You’re sure the time is right . . .

Figure out, based on your child’s age and circumstances, his attitude and maturity, what he is really asking. Is he wondering why Santa doesn’t go to the Herman’s house? Why we’re donating toys to tots if Santa’s going to bring them anyway? Why Santa doesn’t just bring food to the hungry kids in Ukraine? Or is she actually ready to move on to a more complex belief system?

I’ve always found that the best approach to deciphering what information a child is actually seeking is to plumb the waters around it. Why do you ask? What made you think of this just now? I’ll share my thoughts, but first I’d like to hear yours.

If your kindergartener comes home red eyed with the news that Jimmy Sullivan’s older brother said Santa’s not real, she’s probably not asking you if Santa is real. She’s most likely asking why Jimmy Sullivan’s older brother is such a jerk. If you launch into the Santa talk right then you might be robbing your child of a few more precious Santa-filled years. Best to question the elder Sullivan’s judgment, sources, or expertise on the big guy.

Along the same lines, if your second grader has been looking skeptical for weeks and asks to know the truth about Santa, don’t throw in the “truth” about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny and the fact that Fido isn’t really on a farm in the country. That’s quite the truth bomb for a seven-year-old. Only answer the question you’re asked. (One caveat: if you’ve got a particularly inquisitive child, you might want to give some thought to Fido and the Fairy and the Bunny now so you’re not caught flat-footed.)

And you’re prepared to make it meaningful

If they’re really ready for the truth, don’t miss the opportunity to have a truly meaningful discussion with your child about your values. For us, Santa was a vehicle to help our kids learn about faith. That may or may not resonate with you. But there was a reason you told you child the story of Santa. What was it? Did you want to imbue them with a sense of wonder and mystery. To encourage empathy? Kindness? Generosity? To spark their imaginations or remind them to embrace joy whenever and however they find it? To pass on the rituals and traditions you enjoyed so much as a child? Explain what value you hoped your child would learn from the story of Santa and why it was so important to you that they did. 

Make a special point of telling your child how proud and grateful you are that they came to you with such an important question. (I blew this with Scout. Sorry, Scout.) It’s no small thing to ask someone you love if they’ve been honest with you. They’re questioning your authority, maybe for the first time. They’re stepping into a different kind of relationship with you and they know it. Some kids pretend to believe long after they’ve stopped for fear of hurting or changing their relationship with their parents. Praise your child’s courage and drive to understand. Tell them you hope that this is how they will approach all their big questions, by coming to you to talk it out. Trust me, that is exactly how you want your children to approach big questions.

Let your child know what a privilege it is to have this kind of adult conversation with them, to talk about what Santa means to you and why you invited him into your family’s holiday traditions in the first place. Tell them they can discuss it with you as often as they like, but remind them that it’s not something they should share with other kids or with their younger siblings. Not all kids are ready for this kind of conversation. Let other kids and their families talk about Santa when and in the way that feels right for them. 

However and whenever it happens, the “Santa talk” really doesn’t mark the end of your child’s innocent belief in the magic of Christmas. In my opinion, at least, it marks the beginning of a new kind of belief in themselves. As thinkers. As questioners. As truth-bearers. And it begins a new kind of trust in you. As confidante. As thoughtful counselor. As truth-teller. It may be the first time your child has stepped past the simplicity of childhood into a conversation about what is real and true. But it won’t be the last. Hopefully, it’s the beginning a conversation you’ll be having with one another for the rest of your lives.