Call me Ebenezer

I have never believed in Santa Claus. (Or, possibly more accurately, any belief I had in Santa Claus was so weak or brief as to be unremembered.) What I do remember of Santa Claus as a child was hearing the kids on the bus talk about things like sleigh marks on roofs and other evidence for his existence, and being wholly unconvinced. I was never particularly strident in my skepticism, but I remember the efforts of fellow bus riders to help me see the light. I seem to recall a combination of pity and fervor in their efforts. (A somewhat fey, hopelessly unathletic child, you can imagine the boost this gave my popularity.)

Despite my disbelief, I've always enjoyed Christmas. The period between Halloween and New Year's Day is my favorite time of year. While I would dearly love for America's retailers to refrain from foisting yuletide cheer upon us until after Thanksgiving, I love the trappings and trimmings once the time has arrived.

However, now there is the Critter. And thus, the eventual question of What To Say About Santa? Prudie, the advice columnist tackled a question of a similar nature today. A dismayed mother wrote about her ex-husband's choice to debunk Santa for their child. Prudie responds:

Gee, thanks, Dad. Maybe he also threw in that when he realized he was going to have a child, he ran for the hills and cursed himself for not using a condom—that's the truth, too. It's good your son has a relationship with his father, but it would have been nice if his father, before he unilaterally shot down Santa's sleigh, had discussed this with you first. After all, the boy already knows that when someone says, "Mommies and daddies love each other," that isn't necessarily true, either. But don't worry about being caught out in a lie. Telling your children about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy is not lying—it's sprinkling a little magic dust on childhood. While people have funny, even poignant stories about realizing none of it is true, I've never heard anyone rail against those elementary-school years of deceit.

Somehow "not lying" and "years of deceit" are meant to be compatible, and I'm not sure I buy the former assertion. While Santa may be a beloved shared myth, telling a kid something you know with certainty to be false certainly feels like a lie to me. Now, before I suddenly discover how many readers we actually have as I am inundated with angry comments from affronted parents who wonder how I can pump blood with the hunk of coal in my chest, let me make it absolutely clear that I know my feelings are:
1) Uncommon
2) Unpopular
3) A little on the airless, sterile, tight-lipped, blue-nosed side.
I also should hasten to add that I really have no beef with what anyone else tells their kid.

Perhaps my problem is this -- I have no memory of a cherished belief in Santa. (On a related note, the Tooth Fairy assigned to our house was absent-minded to a credulity-shaking degree.) Thus, my ability to invest in a long-term deception is just not there. All I can feel is downside, the knowledge that I am telling my kid something I don't believe. So, all you childhood Santa believers out there, would I be doing him a disservice by failing to play along? Am I a big, fat party-pooper? Is the joy you felt believing in Santa worth my discomfiture as an adult?

I'm all ears.