Victory

I don't ever remember believing in Santa Claus.  Not being Christian, and only sporadically observing December 25 as a day for celebrating or giving gifts (I'm more into the Elena Kagan way of observing Christmas), Santa Claus was never a big part of the traditions we observed growing up and I was so hyper-rational, even as a kid, that it never occurred to me to believe that Santa was an actual person who flew around the world handing out presents.  I mean seriously, what a ridiculous notion.



Our ecumenical household

At our house, we put up a tree because J wants to, but beyond that there isn't really any discussion of Christmas as a religious holiday or even of Santa or any of that stuff.  Zeke's exposure to Santa has only been either seeing pictures on TV or around the neighborhood or when someone dresses up and comes to his school once a year.

Turns out, he's afraid of him.

His first exposure was when he was 2 months old, and his reaction was equivocal, at best.  Last year he went to a "Breakfast with Santa" event and totally hated it.

"Who's this jamoke?"

Then yesterday at his new school they had a Christmas party, which J and I somehow didn't even know about (or else completely spaced on), so J arrived to pick him up in the afternoon only to discover that Zeke's the only kid without a parent there, and Zeke would barely talk to him and told him he's a "bad daddy." 

Ouch.

But anyway, when it was time for Santa, Zeke wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. 

Later that night he said, "Mama, I don't want Santa to come here."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Did he scare you?"

"Yes.  I don't like him.  He's weird."

This was my opening.

"Honey, Santa isn't really a person.  It's just pretend.  But if you don't want him here, then I will make sure he can't get in the house."

"Yes.  Keep him out.  He's weird."

Amen, son.