Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny & the Tooth Fairy all walk into a bar…

Look, I’ve been thinking about this. A lot.

As in, since before I even became a mom.

I don’t want T to believe in Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy.

I think they are all weird.

My childhood memories do not include ever actually believing they might be even the slightest bit real. I remember faking it. For my parents. For my little sister. But believe? I did not. So now I don’t even understand the supposed-magic in these “beings.”

Is it really that big of a deal that the child believes in Santa? Of course not. How many bazillion children survive perfectly fine without this magical being that brings gifts once a year and is kind of tied to Jesus but we’re really not all sure why?

And the Easter Bunny? Creepiest thing ever. I know you’ve seen the adults dressed up in the creepy costumes posing with children on their laps for pictures for…what purpose exactly?

And then there’s the Tooth Fairy.

I mean, what the hell?

Your child loses his teeth and some fairy comes at night leaving him money for his baby teeth. I just don’t get it.

The only memory I have involving the Tooth Fairy is when I was…whatever age you are when you lose teeth…7? 9?… I woke up one morning, found the dollar under my pillow, and then found the tooth on the floor. My first thought was actually something to do with, oh look. Mom dropped my tooth. Yeah. Not the Tooth Fairy. Mom. I knew what was up. But Mom talked about the Tooth Fairy, so I humored her. I told her what happened, and then told her my plan to put the tooth back under my pillow to get another dollar.

Next morning?

I had a lovely handwritten note from the “Tooth Fairy”, thanking me for finding the tooth for her.


The handwriting was exactly like my mom’s. The signature said “The Tooth Fairy” but some of the letters looked like my mother’s very distinctive script.

But I was not surprised. At all.


I have no interest in teaching my child about these things.

Some of them (ahem SANTA CLAUS) he has already caught on to. This is not my doing. It’s really everyone else’s fault. Nobody ever asked me if I wanted my kid to believe in some weird beared fat guy jumping down our chimney (excuse me? WE DON’T EVEN HAVE A CHIMNEY.) every December to deliver presents. And if I mention this? People think I’m weird.


My child has a plenty brilliant imagination. I don’t need to feed it anymore than I already do by purchasing mass amounts of superhero costumes and saving boxes and toilet paper rolls for him to do whatever his little heart desires with.

The problem?

He’s almost five. He talks about Santa Claus. Am I going to crush his little heart by telling him there is no such thing as Santa Claus (sorry to break it to you guys)? I’m sure he’ll survive. But…how do I even word a conversation like that?

Me: Hey T, so you know how you were just talking about Santa bringing you presents for Christmas?

T: Yeah.

Me: Santa isn’t real. Also, we’re celebrating Festivus this year.

T: You’re the best mom ever.

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