To Santa or not to Santa? That is the question plaguing me and many other parents at Christmas, as we attempt to determine whether the magical mince pie-guzzling man in red is synonymous with festive magic or if jolly old St Nick sits on a throne of lies – the kind that causes permanent trust issues and irreparable damage to that all-important parent-child relationship. Ho, ho, ho!

I know, on the surface, that it sounds utterly farcical. And so, when the matter was brought up (in hushed, deeply serious voices) by the mums at the local toddler group, I chuckled uneasily. I was at once rounded on by one of the others, who pointed out – incredibly fairly – that Father Christmas is one of the very first lies we tell our children. That the mythos surrounding the character (a strange man who observes, judges and rewards ‘nice’ behaviour) is steeped in “patriarchal bullshit”. That, someday, my daughters would learn the truth about Santa, and thus be confronted with indisputable proof of my dishonesty.

And just like that, I began to spiral, because, as a quick search on Google makes all too abundantly clear, there’s “debate among experts in child development and psychology suggesting it could be harmful to lie to our children”, says empowerment coach Grace McMahon. 

Growing up, I absolutely fell in love with Santa Claus – not so much the presents (he only ever left me a tangerine, some chocolate coins, a small toy or a book and a lot of balled-up newspaper in my stocking), but the fantasy. The idea of a jolly little elf whizzing around the world to deliver presents to every single child. I fancied I could hear the stomp of his boots on the rooftop, the jingling of sleigh bells, the snort of reindeer… which certainly added some sparkle and shine to our teeny flat above a Chinese takeaway.

Best of all, though, I loved that Santa – busy man that he was, working against the clock – would always take the time to read the letter I left him, perched lovingly alongside a snifter of brandy and a mince pie, on Christmas Eve and that he would respond with a letter of his own. In fact, he’d leave me a whole page of looping cursive unlike anyone’s handwriting I knew, filled with careful details that really showed he cared about me (while peevishly chiding me for melting a packet of Fruit Pastilles by the gas fire).

Of course, over time, I realised that the facts didn’t add up (how did he fit all of those presents in that sack? What speed was he travelling at to get to every house in time? How many mince pies can one man consume without exploding?), so these letters became a way for me to talk to my parents about the stuff I found difficult to broach with them in person. Cancer, loss, grief, divorce – you name it, Santa and I discussed it. His letters remained warm and thoughtful, although his handwriting gradually shifted and became more and more like my mum’s over time. And we kept up the tradition far longer than most; our last letter exchange was the first Christmas I became a mother myself.

I’d hoped to recreate this same tradition with my own girls. I thought I was having fun. Now, I wonder if the Santa myth is an involved lie that can be harmful to children. Will it cause them to worry about how else I might deceive them if I can lie so convincingly about Santa

“Though there is debate among experts, the ‘lie’ we tell about Santa is just like telling our children fairy tales and letting them watch Disney movies that ultimately show a ‘happily ever after’ ending,” says McMahon reassuringly. “Children have magical thinking until the age of 6 which is a completely normal part of child development – think about imaginary play, make-believe tea parties, toys coming to life in our games. Children don’t need to be grounded in reality and it’s normal for them to think in magical ways.”

Sensing my need for cold hard facts, McMahon continues: “Carolyn Ievers-Landis, a licensed clinical psychologist at University Hospitals in Ohio, says that ‘allowing your child to believe, even though they eventually will find out the truth, will not be traumatising or harmful to their development’’

“While they may have an emotional reaction at first, this is generally short-lived. If they are traumatised by finding out about the Santa myth, there’s likely something else going on that should be looked into with a professional.”

Noting that she herself has fond memories of her dad nibbling the carrot and mince pie she left out for Santa as a child, McMahon stresses that we should consider it to be more of a story than a lie.

“The beauty of the Santa belief is that you can make it your own,” she says. “There’s already so many stories and versions that you can take bits from traditions you do like and make that connect with your family. You can make Santa whatever and whoever you want him to be. Everyone can have their own story and beliefs and ultimately make their own decision, and that should be respected, whatever side you fall on in this debate.

“Consider your family values and make Santa fit in with those. Or don’t. He doesn’t have to be what you learned he was; you don’t have to continue traditions you didn’t like, and you don’t have to have the same story as anyone else… and if you are particularly worried about your children finding out, you could set a deadline to gently break it to them.

“As long as we’re teaching our children to respect that, and it’s OK to think differently, the Santa story is likely to be looked back on fondly, rather than causing trust issues and trauma.”

For me and my little family, that looks like a magical penpal who doesn’t buy into the naughty-nice thing (the presents are never dependent on good behaviour, no matter how tempting it is to threaten as much when my toddler is in full-blown threenager mode). 

On that note, I’m off to buy some special festive stationery. Wish me luck…

For further information and support, follow Grace McMahon on Instagram @myhonestcoach

Images: Getty