I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to lie to my future children about Santa Claus.
Call me a grinch, a Scrooge, or even a communist, as one of my colleagues recently joked, but I refuse to sacrifice my kids’ trusting relationship with me over a fat man with a beard.
I’m not alone in my hesitation to incorporate Kris Kringle into sacred Christmas traditions. Plenty of parents are uncomfortable with the idea of giving credit for their thoughtful, hand-picked gifts to a mysterious elderly man who trespasses through the chimney, eats the leftover cookies, and lets his reindeer
