Santa Claus in the ASD household
Dec. 2nd, 2010 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msagaraThe store is moved, and two thirds of it is on the shelves; the computer that died (which was ancient) has been replaced with a computer that's less ancient, and it's now sitting on the new countertop in said store; I've finished contract negotiations for something upcoming in future (about which I'll speak more when things are completely firm), and I've been working at catching up on the writing I lost to the move and the convention.
I still have outstanding reading (not books, not reviews, but pre-pubbed things I really want to read), which I hope to catch up on in the week to follow.
Because it's heading into that time of year, I want to talk about Santa Claus in our ASD household.
Santa Claus is one of those magical memories of early childhood; it's an act, a play, an annual daydream. I understand that for many children and many families, Santa Claus is part of what makes the holiday special.
We had a few discussions about Santa Claus in my oldest son's early life--and we decided that in our house, there would be no Santa. Our reasons for it were pretty simple: Santa Claus is a lie. There are reasons for invoking that particular lie--but they're not reasons my oldest would have understood; what he would have clearly seen and known was that we'd lied to him. We'd told him that Santa Claus existed, when we knew, in fact, that he didn't. We would pretend to be Santa.
I think he would have enjoyed it, for what it's worth. I think he would have enjoyed the mystery and the desire to catch Santa in the act; I think he would have enjoyed the idea of someone sneaking into the house to leave presents.
But I think he would have also been very, very unhappy when the truth--as it always does, because it's some small part of coming-of-age--got out. Telling him that we were lying to him because it was a game wouldn't have worked because, in the way of small children everywhere, he would have argued that Santa did exist because his parents had told him so.
In his universe, it would have eroded his trust in us. It would have added an element of doubt and confusion that we felt would make things more difficult for him; he needed to believe that we were explaining the world as it actually was when he asked for explanations.
However, the question of Santa Claus did arise in grade one. The kids in his class were, of course, talking about Christmas, presents, and what they wanted from Santa. They probably did this in junior and senior kindergarten as well, but in the classroom environment of that time, he didn't pick up on it; with the grade one Teacher, he became slowly comfortable enough that he could. The other children absolutely insisted Santa Claus existed, and he came home to ask me about it.
So. I didn't want him to run back to school and insist that Santa did not, in fact, exist, but I didn't want to put myself in the position of agreeing, for the reasons mentioned above.
What I eventually said (because I'd been thinking about it for years) was this:
Santa Claus is a story we tell our children. It's not a lie, but like stories--The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which was one of the few books he liked as a small child--it's not factual. It's meant to evoke excitement and anticipation; it's meant to be a happy thing.
But, he said, one of the girls in his class insisted that Santa Claus really existed--her parents had told her so, and she absolutely believed them. This, of course, made sense to my son; he believed his own parents, after all. Why did her parents say this if it wasn't the truth?
I didn't want him to feel any scorn or derision; I didn't want him to be outraged by the idea that the parents were involved in an elaborate hoax.
"Because they love the story. It's a story they were told as children. It's a story they believed as children, and when your classmates have children of their own, they're likely to tell their own children the same story, for the same reason. Santa Claus doesn't exist, except as part of that story, but it's a happy story, and people want to share some of that happiness."
"But the children believe in him." (He called his classmates the "children" for a very long time.)
"Yes. Yes, they do."
There was a pause while he digested this. He finally said, "But it's okay to believe in Santa Claus?"
I said, "Yes. We can't tell you he exists in the real world, but yes--it's okay to believe it if you want."
And he said, "I think I'd like to believe it, then."
It was a very odd conversation, but in hindsight, I'm happy with it.
I still have outstanding reading (not books, not reviews, but pre-pubbed things I really want to read), which I hope to catch up on in the week to follow.
Because it's heading into that time of year, I want to talk about Santa Claus in our ASD household.
Santa Claus is one of those magical memories of early childhood; it's an act, a play, an annual daydream. I understand that for many children and many families, Santa Claus is part of what makes the holiday special.
We had a few discussions about Santa Claus in my oldest son's early life--and we decided that in our house, there would be no Santa. Our reasons for it were pretty simple: Santa Claus is a lie. There are reasons for invoking that particular lie--but they're not reasons my oldest would have understood; what he would have clearly seen and known was that we'd lied to him. We'd told him that Santa Claus existed, when we knew, in fact, that he didn't. We would pretend to be Santa.
I think he would have enjoyed it, for what it's worth. I think he would have enjoyed the mystery and the desire to catch Santa in the act; I think he would have enjoyed the idea of someone sneaking into the house to leave presents.
But I think he would have also been very, very unhappy when the truth--as it always does, because it's some small part of coming-of-age--got out. Telling him that we were lying to him because it was a game wouldn't have worked because, in the way of small children everywhere, he would have argued that Santa did exist because his parents had told him so.
In his universe, it would have eroded his trust in us. It would have added an element of doubt and confusion that we felt would make things more difficult for him; he needed to believe that we were explaining the world as it actually was when he asked for explanations.
However, the question of Santa Claus did arise in grade one. The kids in his class were, of course, talking about Christmas, presents, and what they wanted from Santa. They probably did this in junior and senior kindergarten as well, but in the classroom environment of that time, he didn't pick up on it; with the grade one Teacher, he became slowly comfortable enough that he could. The other children absolutely insisted Santa Claus existed, and he came home to ask me about it.
So. I didn't want him to run back to school and insist that Santa did not, in fact, exist, but I didn't want to put myself in the position of agreeing, for the reasons mentioned above.
What I eventually said (because I'd been thinking about it for years) was this:
Santa Claus is a story we tell our children. It's not a lie, but like stories--The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which was one of the few books he liked as a small child--it's not factual. It's meant to evoke excitement and anticipation; it's meant to be a happy thing.
But, he said, one of the girls in his class insisted that Santa Claus really existed--her parents had told her so, and she absolutely believed them. This, of course, made sense to my son; he believed his own parents, after all. Why did her parents say this if it wasn't the truth?
I didn't want him to feel any scorn or derision; I didn't want him to be outraged by the idea that the parents were involved in an elaborate hoax.
"Because they love the story. It's a story they were told as children. It's a story they believed as children, and when your classmates have children of their own, they're likely to tell their own children the same story, for the same reason. Santa Claus doesn't exist, except as part of that story, but it's a happy story, and people want to share some of that happiness."
"But the children believe in him." (He called his classmates the "children" for a very long time.)
"Yes. Yes, they do."
There was a pause while he digested this. He finally said, "But it's okay to believe in Santa Claus?"
I said, "Yes. We can't tell you he exists in the real world, but yes--it's okay to believe it if you want."
And he said, "I think I'd like to believe it, then."
It was a very odd conversation, but in hindsight, I'm happy with it.
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-31 05:30 am (UTC)This came out of my experience with my little brother (now 29) who when he found out about Santa not being real (at five years old) was so devastated it broke my heart. He just kept saying over and over to my mom, "You lied! You lied to me!"
Needless to say, I couldn't go through that again! ;)
Santa, tooth fairy etc
Date: 2011-08-20 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 06:10 pm (UTC)Are you going to be doing a House Name signing at Bakka Phoenix?
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 03:09 am (UTC)Are you going to be doing a House Name signing at Bakka Phoenix?
I'm happy to sign the book for anyone who comes into the store - but the store is not quite finished yet, so I don't think we have any official anything until February at the earliest...
no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 07:37 pm (UTC)- Shane Rebenschied
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Date: 2011-04-09 02:49 pm (UTC)meilleur rachat de credit
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Date: 2011-04-26 11:14 am (UTC)Сначала, как обычно, встреча в кафе. Потом ничего не значащий вечер среди друзей. А потом он предложил встретиться снова. Делать мне тогда было особенно нечего, и я не отказалась. На этом свидании все и выяснилось. Я вообще-то догадывалась, что он помладше, но пять лет!!!
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- Ну, как хочешь, - он сделал вид, что уходит.
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А она, не теряя времени даром, уже лизнула мокрую головку члена, и, продолжая мять его рукой, принялась второй ладонью гладить мои яички. Её большие, красивые глаза были устремлены вверх и упирались ласковым взглядом прямо в мои. Короткая, аккуратная стрижка делала её лицо совершенным. Я стал гладить эти белые волосы, как будто нежно гладил дочку. Она тем временем уже поглотила губами всю головку и принялась нежно посасывать. Одновременно она лизала гладкую поверхность головки, шустреньким язычком, не выпуская её изо рта.
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Обычно это можно узнать по тому, как она целует вас. Поэтому проследите за этим и поцелуйте ее так, как она целовала вас, стараясь все же добавить что-нибудь от себя. Кроме того, помните, что девушки обычно не любят, когда парни слишком быстро переходят к поцелуям с использованием языка или вообще не используют другие поцелуи.
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Эротический массаж – отличное средство сближения и первый шаг к сексу. Даже если человек не торопится нырять в койку и не готов часами рассказывать о своих сексуальных пристрастиях, от массажа редко кто откажется. А в процессе вы сами увидите, что доставляет ему наибольшее удовольствие.
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Муж. - считаете ли вы, что полное обнажение женской груди сексуально стимулирует?
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5. Опять отведите язык назад и посмотрите, отвечает ли она вам. И опять же практически все парни забывают об этом.
no subject
Date: 2012-06-02 08:19 am (UTC)I can't remember ever believing in Santa. I don't know if my parents made a conscious decision about it, or if it didn't occur to them to pretend to be Santa. I imagine that they were motivated largely by a desire to cultivate gratitude (I was always supposed to write thank-you notes, too). So they didn't sign gifts as being from Santa, nor did any of the other adults in my life. I don't remember if they told me stories about Santa, or if I only got it in literature (we were all fond of The Polar Express). There was certainly never any of this business of leaving out milk and cookies, although I do remember that presents (and stocking-stuffers) would appear Christmas morning.
But there were never any presents from Santa. And I was a very logical child. Santa gave gifts to good children. I was a good child, so if Santa gave gifts, I ought to be getting some. I never received gifts from Santa. Therefore Santa did not exist.
But I must also have understood very young that other children did believe in Santa, and that it was not a problem that they did, because I don't remember any difficulties about it.
In retrospect, considering how I reacted (as a much older child) when I felt that I was being lied to, it's probably a very good thing that my parents never attempted to convince me it was true. On the other hand, I would probably have been inclined to give my parents more leeway than I gave to orthodontists.