|sent from: London, UK. destination: San F|
A friend was wondering what Christmas traditions to introduce to her small children. Should she embark down the path of Father Christmas, and then be forced into maintaining a fantasy she felt was needless? She noted of course that she had little choice, the kids shows they watched were doing the job regardless of her intentions. I suggested that from a children’s perspective that Christmas can be a magical period, no matter how obvious, inconsistent and irrational it may seem as an adult.
A world in which you might grow up to be a wizard (see #3.49) is also one in which a large bearded man bearing presents could enter your house no matter the lack of a chimney. And a child could be born heralded by voices from the sky and bright guiding stars. I don’t lament the loss of such a malleable sense of the world, since it is something I can’t change, but there was a time in our lives when truly anything was possible. I heard the reindeer outside my house, I’ll swear to this day. I sat rapt during advent as the birth story was retold, powerful as only mythic stories can be. And I conversed with other worldly creatures who, like Sarah in Labyrinth, even after having grown up, I like to invite back into my house for a party.