As far as I know, it didn’t do a thing to help me develop as a rationalist. (Indeed, I wouldn’t even say that I’m a rationalist now, merely “rationalism-curious”.) But I do know that I was pretty damn upset, and later in life I think it contributed to my deciding that premeditated lying to your children is fucked up — especially when it’s this premeditated — and that I wasn’t going to tell my children Santa was real if I ever had any. (This might end up being a moot point, as I become less certain with each passing year that I’ll ever even have children.)
I remember the first time I told my mom that I was seriously considering not telling my children that Santa was real. She got so upset — far more than I expected — that it made me wonder if this was how some atheists felt coming out to their religious parents. It was one of the few times in my life that she acted like I wasn’t just wrong, but actually a bad person, for thinking what I thought. (I’m not sure that she actually thought that I was being a bad person, just reporting on how she behaved.) Mom loves Christmas more than almost anything else, and she has extremely fond memories of how it felt to believe in Santa as a child. She couldn’t believe that I would deny my children the magic and wonder of believing in Santa.
I gave a reply that I thought would be at least somewhat persuasive: “If you need to tell your kids about Santa to give them a sense of magic and wonder, you’re doing it wrong.” (Or perhaps I said “If you need to lie to your kid”) She was completely unmoved. Knowing what I know about her, I think it simply went in one ear and out the other. I think she was too busy being indignant and aghast to even digest what I had said, let alone consider whether I even might have had a point.
I don’t think I’ll bring it up with her again. I think if I ever have a kid someday, I’ll just let Mom be shocked when she eventually discovers that my kid does not and has never believed in Santa, and she wasn’t even present to witness me not lie to them.
As far as I know, it didn’t do a thing to help me develop as a rationalist. (Indeed, I wouldn’t even say that I’m a rationalist now, merely “rationalism-curious”.) But I do know that I was pretty damn upset, and later in life I think it contributed to my deciding that premeditated lying to your children is fucked up — especially when it’s this premeditated — and that I wasn’t going to tell my children Santa was real if I ever had any. (This might end up being a moot point, as I become less certain with each passing year that I’ll ever even have children.)
I remember the first time I told my mom that I was seriously considering not telling my children that Santa was real. She got so upset — far more than I expected — that it made me wonder if this was how some atheists felt coming out to their religious parents. It was one of the few times in my life that she acted like I wasn’t just wrong, but actually a bad person, for thinking what I thought. (I’m not sure that she actually thought that I was being a bad person, just reporting on how she behaved.) Mom loves Christmas more than almost anything else, and she has extremely fond memories of how it felt to believe in Santa as a child. She couldn’t believe that I would deny my children the magic and wonder of believing in Santa.
I gave a reply that I thought would be at least somewhat persuasive: “If you need to tell your kids about Santa to give them a sense of magic and wonder, you’re doing it wrong.” (Or perhaps I said “If you need to lie to your kid”) She was completely unmoved. Knowing what I know about her, I think it simply went in one ear and out the other. I think she was too busy being indignant and aghast to even digest what I had said, let alone consider whether I even might have had a point.
I don’t think I’ll bring it up with her again. I think if I ever have a kid someday, I’ll just let Mom be shocked when she eventually discovers that my kid does not and has never believed in Santa, and she wasn’t even present to witness me not lie to them.