Believing in Santa 

My son still believes in Santa. Just. A girl in his class at school was sceptical this year, and even suggested that parents did it. He said that was stupid of her to say, because if Santa heard her (and he hears everything, right?) then he won’t be bringing any presents to her this year.

Don’t tempt fate. 

This Easter weekend it was the same with the Easter bunny. Everyone says it’s your parents, but does the Easter bunny only turn up if you believe in him, too? Should you tempt fate again?

As long as he believes, I’m going to go on believing with him. That’s the gift he gave me, the one of discovering that in someone else’s belief, you’re given permission to suspend your disbelief. 

Don’t stop believin’

This is the great thing about stories. As long as enough of us believe them, they’re true. The Christian story, given that it’s Easter, is truly extraordinary. As outlandish as any you ever heard. Yet it is truly believed by millions of adults around the world.

And whether it’s the Christian story or the Hindu story or the story of the Big Bang and the burning spheres out there in the night sky, millions of miles away. As long as enough of us believe them, they’re true.

So I’m going to go on believing in Santa and the Easter bunny, for as long as there’s someone else to believe the story with me. Because somewhere, in the corner of the universe, maybe he’s right and I’m wrong.

On the subject of kids, have you tried talking to a three-year-old?