Scarred by Santa?
Is the Elf Myth Harmless Fantasy or Cruel Lie?
There are things good parents don't say to their children. We don't, for example, say, "Somewhere in the high desert, there are gnomes building you a Wii" or "Did you know that antelope have invisibility powers?" We never tell them that a kindly old woman is likely to emerge from our tub drains in a blue suit at some point this month. And that we should leave her a dish of tiramisu.
Why, then, will we swear up and down that if our kids behave and eat their vegetables, a fat man in a red get-up will flit through the sky pulled by wingless horned mammals and squeeze down our filthy chimneys to bring us coveted baubles shrouded in Costco wrapping paper?
What the elf are we doing to our kids??
I make a big stink at home about honesty and how it's our family's highest value blah blah blah. Yet I've dragged my old Doc Martens through the fireplace and stomped them across the living room to leave convincing ash footprints on the carpet. I've nibbled from countless cookie platters intended for Santa, leaving big, obvious bite marks and telltale crumbs. I've affixed postage to "Dear Santa" letters that were ultimately mailed to no one, nowhere.
Was I wrong to do it?
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