Is Santa for Real?

Is Santa for Real?

It all started the day the Christmas Wishbook arrived. For those unfamiliar with the Christmas Wishbook, it’s the smaller Christmas catalog that Sears and Roebuck used to print when they were a large catalog business. It was colorful and inviting to kids like William and his sister, Anne, who was two years older than he. Together they lay down in the middle of the living room floor and began looking through it.

“I want that and that,” said William, stabbing his finger at the boy related toys, “And that, too!”

“Well, I want a tea set and a new dolly,” said Anne who in her mind was already playing with the new toys. “Look, Will! Look at all these candies and nuts. Ummmm, wouldn’t you like to have those?”

“Yeah, Old Santa’s sleigh is gonna be loaded down, huh,” said William.

“I guess so, but you do know Santa is not real, don’t cha?” she asked with the aplomb of a mature nine year old.

William hadn’t really considered that question up until this minute, but not wanting to appear as an unsophisticated country bumpkin he responded, “Yeah, I know.”

He really wanted to ask how all the toys and gifts got to their house if Santa didn’t bring them? And who ate those cookies and drank the milk they left for him? How did the list of toys they left in the bushes for the elves to pickup disappear, if the bluebirds didn’t take them to the elves in the woods? But he remained silent for he was sure Anne was about to tell him.

“Yep,” she began, “Santa is really mom and dad. They buy all the presents and put them out while we’re sleeping. How do you think Santa could get down our chimney?”

“Magic?” ventured William.

“Ha!” she scoffed, “Where have you been these last seven years, Will? Magic is make-believe just like Santa.”

“Well, sure,” asserted Will, “Everybody knows that.”

And so the conversation went on for a while and was resurrected each time they got down the Wishbook to peruse their list of gifts.

Their choices of gifts changed from time to time. One time Will wanted a BB gun another time a train set, then another it was a basketball and goal, but the choices were so many it was hard to narrow them down to two or three. He mustn’t be greedy for there were boys and girls all over the world who wanted all kinds of toys and it would be a terrible imposition on Santa to have to provide so many for every boy and girl. But then if Santa were your mom and dad, it would not be such an imposition for them to buy a few extra toys.

One day in December, Anne said to Will, “Mama is working outside in her flower bed, let’s go see if we can find our Christmas toys.”

“OK,” responded Will and grabbed the well worn Sears Christmas Wishbook.”

“No, no, you dolt,” exclaimed Anne, “The real toys that mom and dad have hidden.”

“Oh! Where do we look?” asked Will.

“In the closets, under the bed, in the attic,” said Anne as if she were talking to a seven year-old imbecile. “That’s why we’re looking. We don’t know where, so we look everywhere!”

So they set about their task, checking under the beds and in closets. They looked in their parents' closet first, then in Anne’s and finally in Will's and his older brother’s closet. Hidden on the top shelf in the back of their closet they found a tea set and doll. Anne was in heaven finding out that she was going to get the very things for which she has asked.

“See, I told you it’s mom and dad,” Anne said triumphantly.

“But where are mine?” William asked.

“I don’t know,” she said emphatically and not really caring, “Maybe they haven’t gotten yours yet or maybe they’re not going to get anything for you this year.”

“What do you mean, they’re not gonna get anything for me?” he ask clearly upset by that revelation.

“Well, I don’t know!” she said, “Maybe you’ve been too bad and you know Santa don’t come to bad little boys, especially those that are crybabies!”

The tears welling up in his eyes dried instantly and he said, “But you said Santa ain’t real so how could Santa not bring me anything if he ain’t real anyway?”

“All I know is that I found my toys and not yours. Maybe mom and dad like me better,” she concluded.

“Well, I’m gonna go ask mama right now,” he said and started for the door.

“Will! Don’t you dare!” she commanded. “If you go ask her, then she’ll know we found the gifts. They got you some gifts. We just didn’t find them, that’s all. Don’t worry.”

But he did worry about it. He had always gotten gifts, but now with proof of gifts already in the house, he was a little concerned and would ask his mom from time to time about the surety of his Santa gifts. She always reassured him that Santa would bring him gifts. Even when he mentioned that Anne had said Santa might not bring him a gift because he had been bad, she still reassured him.

“Mom,” William asked, “Is Santa real?”

“What do you think, Will?” she answered.

He wanted to tell her what Anne had told him, but he was not sure if he should, so he said, “Yep, I think he’s real.”

“That’s good, Will, because what’s important is what you think. Don’t let anyone tell you what you should believe. What you think is what’s most important.”

Two days before Christmas Anne cornered him. Mom had obviously reprimanded her for telling him he was bad and might not get any gifts. She said he should not have mentioned anything to mom about his gifts. It might make mom suspicious that they had gone looking for the gifts.

“It don’t matter,” William said, “Mom told me that Santa was bringing me gifts.”

“Well, that just goes to show you it’s mom and dad that’s Santa or how could she know about your gifts?” she concluded.

All that made sense, even to his seven year-old mind and he left to ponder these new revelations as Christmas approached.

Soon Christmas Eve night arrived. In the living room was a Christmas tree they had cut in their woods, decorated with popcorn and holly berry garlands strung on mom’s thread, with colorful lights, tinfoil icicles, and Christmas ornaments all over it. The smell of cookies, pies and Christmas foods permeated the house and with all the excitement it was difficult to even think about sleeping.

But, the time came when mom quoted the lyrics of that well known Gene Autry song, “OK, children. It’s time to 'jump in bed and cover up your head because Santa Claus comes tonight.' And you know he will not come till you are fast asleep.”

Those were magic words and they ran to take care of their last responsibility getting out cookies, milk for Santa and hanging their stockings on the mantle. Then with a last look, they ran to their beds and jumped in under the cover.

One would think all the excitement would be so great they would have difficulty getting to sleep. However, mom had long ago discovered the importance of keeping children busy all day long on Christmas Eve so they were exhausted.

Mom and dad had hardly finished their coffee and cake before the kids were sound asleep. So Santa and his elf set about putting out the gifts from Santa and extra things from mom and dad.

Mom had earlier moved all the hidden loot to one central location, her closet which she had locked to keep snooping eyes out. Dad had gone to grandma’s house in the afternoon and fetched larger gifts and a large box of fruit, nuts and fireworks all now hidden in the garage.

About four o’clock in the morning, William was awakened by someone shaking the bed.

“Wake up!” Anne said to William and his brother Tom. Then as their eyes began to sleepily open she asked, “Do you think Santa has come?”

“I don’t know,” said Tom, “Why don’t you go to the living room and see.”

In a flash she was gone, re-emerging in the darkness a few minutes later.

“He’s come!” she gushed excitedly, “And he brought me a tea set and a dolly!”

“Oh boy!” exclaimed William, “And they’re so pretty!”

“How do you know?” asked Tom.

“Uh, I saw the picture in the Christmas book,” William explained.

“Sure you didn’t see them someplace else?” Tom questioned as Anne left the room to go back to the living room.

“No!” he lied.

“Well, let me explain something to you,” said Tom. “Santa has been coming to this house for thirteen years, and when Santa comes good things come, too. Now, when no one believes in Santa, he’ll stop coming. So, you can believe or not believe, but just don’t tell anyone, cause we want Santa to keep coming. Understand?”

“Uh-huh,” said William nodding.

“Good. Now let’s go see what Santa brought us.”

When they arrived in the living room, there were the gifts they had requested from Santa, plus smaller surprise gifts, too. The cookie and milk they had left for Santa were half gone.

“You know,” said William, “Next year I think we need to just give Santa half a cookie and half a glass of milk because he don’t never finish it all.”

As they looked at all the toys they had received and were busy playing with them, William looked up and saw his mom and dad standing in the doorway watching them as they enjoyed the gifts. Dad joined them on the floor as mom went to the kitchen to prepare a special breakfast.

As William sat near his dad, he asked him, “Will, do you still believe in Santa Claus?”

William thought about the question and what Tom had said, then he answered, “Yep, dad, I still believe in Santa. Sometimes I wonder, but this year I’ve decided I still believe.”

“That’s good,” his dad said, “I’m glad you still believe. There will come a time when you’ll question Santa’s existence, but just remember, once you stop believing, you can never go back and Christmas will be different from then on.”

As dad got up to go into the kitchen, Tom who had been sitting near by and overheard the conversation, turned to William and said, “Way to go, Will! Santa is real and he'll be back one more Christmas, for sure.”