{{{Jess}}}

As a parent, I'm torn. I don't want to be a curmudgeon denying my child the Magic of Christmas, but OTOH I don't want her remembering her discovery of the truth as painful and embarrassing almost 20 years after the fact!

Believe me, Christmas isn't necessarily less magical because you don't do Santa. What filled our house with magic was the beauty of the holiday and the excitement of my parents in being able to give us what they never had and knowing that they picked out certain things for you personally. Also, then you can have presents arrive under the tree little by little, and shake them furiously wonder what they are. And siblings can give each other presents without some bizarre logical leap.

Also, even though I would never do the Santa thing with any potential kids, I don't really see it as a question of lying. But since I never experienced the whole Santa "betrayal" thing, I guess I can't really say. You should do what's in your heart.

I don't want to be a curmudgeon denying my child the Magic of Christmas,

Seriously, I don't feel "denied". I know some people love it and remember it fondly, and I don't think it's necessarily damaging or anything, but don't do it because you feel you'd be depriving your child otherwise.

And siblings can give each other presents without some bizarre logical leap.

We always had people presents too. I guess I've always assumed that was universal. Do some people only get presents from Santa?

He tries to explain it as "I'm just worried about you/I want you to be the best person you can be/I know you want to do as well as possible at this." I had parents, Hubby. I didn't marry you because I missed being "improved."

I understand this. Believe me, I do. But also being the person who has occasionally nagged her spouse about health issues, there's a a lot of force behind the notion of look, I don't want you to DIE, okay? I have a collection of pretty black dresses, but I don't want to be a widow, and sometimes it's not hard to say something.

I should quote that to Hubby. I get the impression that he doesn't really believe I'm a competent adult who is at least as smart as he is. "You shouldn't eat that, it's bad for your blood sugar." No shit! Has it occured to you that I know that damned well and I'm eating it anyway?

He tries to explain it as "I'm just worried about you/I want you to be the best person you can be/I know you want to do as well as possible at this." I had parents, Hubby. I didn't marry you because I missed being "improved."

And my rant *also* comes from 15 years of dealing with my dad's heart disease -- at some point, I realized that he knows what is and isn't healthy to eat, and he knows that exercise is beneficial, and he knows that he has to take his meds. And all my "but I'm just concerrrrrrned!" does (even though it's genuine concern) is annoy the holy hell out of him.

He and I reached a detente where I don't heckle him about his heart disease, because -- and here I'm quoting him -- he's "an adult with a doctor I trust," and in return he doesn't heckle me about my weight, for the same reasons. (Also because my cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugar are normal; I might be fat, but it's hard to find disease where no markers exist, y'know?)

My mom hasn't really grasped that concept, though she's gotten better. Not totally, but better.

We always had people presents too. I guess I've always assumed that was universal. Do some people only get presents from Santa?

I've heard every permutation you can think of, but definitely a lot of "all presents come on Christmas Eve from Santa".

We had one present under the tree from Santa. I don't really remember a time where I didn't know that it was left by Mom, I mean, either that or his handwriting was just way too much like hers.

I have no magic in my heart, this is a known fact. Maybe this is why I keep ending up working on children's shows.

We had both - like someone said up-thread, wrapped ones were from people, unwrapped from Santa.

I don't remember if I still believed at this time or not, but I do remember as a young'un feeling triumphant and oh-so-clever when I recognized my dad's handwriting on the "To [Dad], Love Santa" tag on some big-ticket item.

I have no magic in my heart, this is a known fact. Maybe this is why I keep ending up working on children's shows.

The universe is cramming magic and childlike wonder down your throat?

"Eat the magic, fucker! Open your eyes wide to the miracle, you son of a bitch!"

No, I just think it is fitting in some twisted way that someone with no magic in his heart is the one creating the magical things for kids.