Notes from a Corporate Life: Thoughts on information and libraries in corporations, music and other things.

This past weekend, on Easter day, came that awful time when we had to confess to our daughter (10 years old, turning 11 in May) that the Easter Bunny - and leprechauns and Santa, all of the magical 'holiday characters', as she calls them - aren't real. That we, her parents, had actually been, well, kind of hoodwinking her all these years. (Of course, we didn't put it like that, but that's how it feels.)

The impending breakdown of all of this started this past Christmas. More and more of her friends were questioning (or flat-out not believing) in Santa. And I suppose at 10, almost 11, it was still a bit surprising to me that she still believed (or mostly believed) in Santa. But my wife and I somehow kept the illusion up with some fast thinking. What was heartbreaking was that our daughter, more than anything, wanted to know the truth. And to tell the truth, folks, we waffled. We didn't tell her the whole truth. But we also realized that we needed to tell her the whole truth soon.

Of course, when our daughter was born, my wife and I went through some brief agonies around whether we should even encourage the belief in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and all those 'holiday characters'. We knew this day of reckoning would come, but that day was pretty far off when our cute little baby first arrived.

My wife and I both grew up with all of these things, and we decided we wanted to share all the fun that we had with our daughter. While I can see the advantages in keeping a parent's pure integrity in NOT encouraging belief in these things, it just seems unnecessarily joyless to say to a child, 'There's no Santa', when likely, in the US at least, at least 75% of their friends would be chattering away about Santa for much of their young lives.

(The hard-line parent discussions, I would imagine, are probably fraught with their own agonies. 'Well, honey, your friend Johnny believes in Santa because Johnny's parents lie to him about it and make him think Santa exists. They trick him into believing in Santa. Aren't you glad we don't do that with you? Johnny will feel very sad and betrayed some day because of that. You won't, lucky you!' Ugh.)

After the bomb dropped, it turns out that everyone was rather relieved. Frankly, for the parents, it was becoming harder and harder to orchestrate everything, to keep all the logical and logistical balls in the air. For several years, I dressed up as Santa and visited - coincidentally, Dad was never around when Santa visited. You can't get away with this kind of thing forever, leaving these kinds of clues around for an increasingly clever daughter.

Our daughter said it actually was kind of a relief to her to finally get the truth. It was stressful to her to see these inconsistencies and incongruencies (my words, not hers) in the face of what we were telling her about Santa. Two years ago, I had fessed up that I was the one playing Santa, but that there was still a real Santa bringing presents. Then, how come the presents I brought as fake Santa had the same wrap as the 'real' ones from Santa? (Dammit! I guess I'm not smarter than a fifth-grader.)

So, generally, relief all around.

But, being a dad and being overly analytical, I'm still bothered. The most bothersome thing to me is that we've very abruptly removed and changed part of her world view. She truly believed in Santa, and she still wants to believe. Santa, and the Easter Bunny and leprechauns, were a magical part of her world. When you take away those things, you take away a magical, surprising and joyous part of life. Heartbreakingly, at one point she hugged me and said, 'Can we still pretend that nothing has changed?'

I would love to pretend nothing has changed.

Of course, this process is a little microcosm of growing up. Part of growing up is disillusionment, sadness. The world changes. There's no protecting kids from this process.

But it started me thinking that this is a perfect opportunity to start talking with her about other ways life can be magical. To point out that, if you're looking for it, you can find little pieces of magic, joy and surprise in every day. There are, indeed, gifts, large and small, every day. Santa every day!

My cynical side comes crashing into this construct, this attempt to 'save Santa', so to speak. Maybe I'm just an aging adult who wants to believe in Santa, too. Maybe I'm trying too hard to mitigate the situation, and I need to let it go. Maybe I'm fooling myself with this 'magical thinking' stuff. Maybe I'm brainwashing myself into this naive world view, and I should be more of a realist. And my daughter should be a realist as well.

But when you get down to it, what are the qualities of Santa that are so fun to believe in when you're a kid?

Santa means absolute joy and happiness. A world with Santa in it is a giving, generous, kind, thoughtful, surprising and magical world.

What's wrong with that in a world view - even without a real, live Santa?