Preserving The Magic When Kids Stop Believing In Santa

It started with an empty sack.

My oldest daughter, Sophia, was maybe four that year – just old enough to recognise that something was off.

Santa, in all his festive haste, had left his most important accessory behind and it sat next to the tree.

My husband and I thought we were being whimsical. It was an inside joke for us. But where we saw a charming tradition unfolding, Sophia saw a plot hole.

She stood there, brow furrowed, eyes darting between the empty red velvet Pottery Barn Santa sack and the cookie plate.

“Oh no! Santa left his bag!” she said, pointing to the bag beside the tree. “He needs it for the rest of the presents.”

She looked genuinely puzzled, not accusatory. She was just doing what her brain had always done best, connecting the dots.

“Well…” I started scrambling. I picked up the red velvet bag and turned it over. “This one is empty, so maybe we were Santa’s last house?”

She was four — just four — and I could already feel the story slipping. Of course Santa wouldn’t leave his sack behind. Not if he had more houses to visit. Not if he needed it. Not if he were real.

We didn’t know it then, but that sack was the first crack in the Santa story, and Sophia was keeping track.

Years passed. She held on longer than I expected, but in 2017, at eight years old – just like Virginia O’Hanlon of the now famous “Is there a Santa?” letter – Sophia came to me solemnly, and said, “Mama, I want to believe, but I just can’t. I’ve seen too much evidence that Santa doesn’t exist.”

My little scientist was equal parts sweet and skeptical, as if she were the protagonist in a Christmas movie. I knew it was time to welcome the newest member of Team Santa – a secret society devoted to generosity and anonymous giving.

That Christmas Eve, when her little sister Phoebs went to bed, Sophia pretended to go to bed too. Once her sister was fast asleep, she joined my husband and me in the living room.

Her initiation had begun.

We taught her how to move through the house silently. We showed her our attic hiding place. She wrapped gifts. She placed them carefully under the tree. She nibbled at Santa’s cookies and drank his milk. She chomped on the reindeer’s carrots.

We showed her how to do all the things we once claimed were beyond our control. These were the very signs we had used to say, See? Santa’s real. And now – she was the one doing them.

Over the next four years, she helped us keep the magic alive for her little sister. Each Christmas Eve, we’d slip into our quiet roles after bedtime – taping seams just so, staging the cookie plate, and pressing our fingers to our lips in the secret shush.

And each year, just before the final lights were turned off, we’d gather for a family photo in our Christmas pyjamas – grinning, our index fingers in front of our mouths. We started posting those photos to our social media page. It was a quiet wink to the other grown-ups. We captioned each one the same way: Goodnight, Santas everywhere.

Over time, our friends began to expect the photos. They told us it was the last thing they looked for before going to bed on Christmas Eve. And in 2021, any friends looking for our Christmas Eve Team Santa photo noticed that our youngest daughter, Phoebs, had joined the team.

There were no more little believers in our house for Phoebs to play Santa for, but we welcomed her to Team Santa just the same. Because the secret society isn’t just about keeping wonder alive for the children in our house. It was about protecting it for everyone – for friends, for neighbours, for the part of the world still willing to believe in something gentle and good.

Phoebs learned the rituals with the same care her sister once had. And just like that, we were all in on it together.

Sometimes parents ask, What do we tell our kids when they realise we’ve been lying to them? And I understand the fear behind the question. We spend so much of parenthood trying to teach our children to trust us. What happens when they realise we’ve been part of this elaborate illusion all along?

But the truth is, the story of Santa isn’t a lie. It’s about learning how to give to others without needing credit. That’s not deception. That’s legacy.

What we’ve come to call Team Santa is not just a family tradition – it’s a quiet coalition that spans generations, cultures and communities. It’s neighbours who shovel a stranger’s sidewalk before sunrise. Grandparents who stay up assembling dollhouses and bikes in secret. Friends who drop gifts on doorsteps without leaving a name.

In a divided world, it may be one of the last remaining traditions that asks us to do something beautiful for someone else without the need for acknowledgement.

We used to worry about ruining the magic for our kids if we told the truth. But what we learned is that you can honour a child’s intelligence without extinguishing their wonder. You can shift the story without losing its soul.

Sophia didn’t stop believing in Santa that first year we welcomed her to Team Santa. Instead, she just started believing in something bigger – in all of us.

This is what no one tells you: the loss of one kind of magic is the beginning of another. Believing never really stops – it just evolves. One day, you become a part of the magic that was once made for you.

To every parent who’s quietly grieving the loss of wide-eyed wonder this year: we see you. You don’t have to lose the magic. You can welcome someone into our shared legacy of making the world a little better, one secret act at a time.

Welcome to Team Santa. We’ve been waiting for you.

Sabine McNaughton is a full-time educator and part-time writer. She’s also a wife and mom, and finding her voice between who she is for others and who she’s becoming for herself. She writes about midlife, education, and the stories our bodies carry — with the occasional escape to the Delta Quadrant, writing “Star Trek: Voyager” episode recaps on her blog.

Sabine lives with her husband and daughters, sings in the church choir, and believes we’re never really done learning or growing. You can find more of her work on Medium or on her blog, Delta Quadrant Diary.

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