Dear Santa

Another Christmas has come and gone, and from all available evidence, Weevy still believes in Santa Claus — a somewhat surprising turn of events considering the cynical times in which we live and the number of friends she has who should, theoretically at least, be willing to throw poor Santa under the bus in the name of truth, shattering your friends’ hopes and dreams, making them cry because you’re a little 9-year-old shit, etc.

Also, I’m not gonna lie, I’m of two minds about perpetuating this thing, especially as she approaches her tenth birthday and remains, thanks to her daddy, half Jewish (although let the record show she knows Hanukkah Harry does not really exist).  I mean, WE PAID FOR THOSE GIFTS. We wrap them. (By “we” I mean my wife. I’m the most horrible giftwrapper you’ve ever seen.) We eat the damn cookies she leaves for the guy. And we write a note for her every Christmas thanking her for said cookies. (And by “we” I mean me, for the most part.)  I’d like some credit for the whole endeavor. Or else I’d like some jolly guy at the North Pole to pay our credit card bills for all the swag.

The notes are really the only compelling reason why we allow the charade to continue. Well, that and the knowledge that once the toothpaste is out of the tube, it’s awfully hard to get it back in.  We HAVE trod awfully close to the line:  “Does Santa Claus exist?”  “Well, what do YOU think?”  She has wavered a bit of late, but always comes down on the “Yes I believe” side, and we haven’t told her otherwise.  Yet.

Anyway, back to the notes. Every year we have her write a little something to St. Nick to leave along with the cookies.  This year she got a little stressed on Christmas Eve because she forgot the purpose of the note, so she started writing out her wish list all over again.  There were a few tears when we told her, no, the gifts are gotten already, this is to thank him, but she quickly got in the spirit.  Here’s what she wrote:

Dear Santa, thank you for all the presents you’ve given me all these years, so I gave you special Christmas cookies!  They have Christmas trees (as you can see) and we gave them to you! 🙂 Merry Christmas Santa!

P.S. Say hi to Hanukkah Harry for me please.

If it’s not your kid, you may not think that it’s super cute, but if you saw her writing it I think you’d think otherwise.

Anyway, a couple of years ago I got the bright idea of leaving a return note from “Santa” — I camouflage my handwriting and everything.  And this year I went one better, picking up some of her favorite macarons on Christmas Eve and leaving them for her to devour on Xmas morning.  Here’s my — er, Santa’s — return note:

Dear Vivienne,

Thank you for the cookies! And congratulations on the lovely new fireplace! [n.b. we’ve moved since Christmas 2018.] It certainly makes my work easier. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the cookies but Mrs. Claus is on me to lose weight, you understand… but to thank you for being so kind, I hope you enjoy the macarons. I heard they’re your favorite!

Merry Christmas and see you next year,


P.S. Enjoy the gifts, too!  And say hello to your parents for me.

Pretty cool, right?  Now, I didn’t know whether she’d read it and be all like, “DADDY, I know you wrote this,” but I hoped she’d think it was sweet regardless. Instead, she was almost as jazzed by the seemingly authentic missive from S. Claus himself as she was by her gifts (“Santa always knows just what to get me!”).  She loved the macarons, of course, but she also told her whole goyisha extended family about the note: “Santa didn’t eat all the cookies because Mrs. Claus wants him to lose weight!”  And so the lie continues for another year. And I still have mixed feelings about it. But I’m already composing next Christmas’ note in my head, too.