A Believer

One of the tongue-in-cheek Christmas rules around our house is that if you don't believe in Santa Claus, then Santa Claus won't bring you any presents. This rule was instigated a few years back to protect the innocent, and has worked pretty good. I for one, am a firm believer in Santa Claus, and will be until the day I die.

In hindsight, however, I can't really recommend using this rule on someone with autism.

The someone with autism at our house, who has a very concrete way of thinking, and also a certain sweet innocence, is having a hard time wrapping his mind around a higher level of thinking where Santa Claus is concerned.

I've seen this issue coming for a few years now. He has been a firm believer since the year several Christmases ago, when, unbeknownst to me or his dad, he stuck a letter in the mailbox addressed to the North Pole, and got a personal letter in return, on North Pole stationery and signed by the big guy himself. He sent another letter last year, and was pretty disappointed when he didn't get anything back. This year, when he announced that he was too big to go to IHC's Santa Party, I thought maybe things had resolved on their own. Then he started talking again about what Santa was going to bring him this year. I thought it was kind of cute, but his dad was worried for his safety. "You don't know high school guys, Lynne," he told me. "He might get eaten alive if he talked like that at school."

That was a good point, so my someone with autism and me had a little Santa Talk the other day. I thought I did a very good job of explaining to him how things worked while still maintaining some of the magic of the Christmas spirit. I explained all about Santa's helpers and why we like to give at Christmas, and what Santa Claus really means.

Apparently I failed. Because when they announced at the ward Christmas party that Santa would be arriving soon, someone's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Santa's coming, Mom," he said, and then added, "Is it going to be one of his helpers?" As Santa walked in, someone's eyes were riveted on the red suit and beard. And as I got up to follow Olivia, who was already at the front of the Santa line, he whispered to me, "Tell him I said hello, okay?"


He really is the sweetest, most trusting boy. Sometimes I just can't bear the thoughts of all the harsh realities he will someday have to face.