I’ve lied to my children. I would love to meet a mother who hasn’t, but still, it’s tough to teach the value of honesty when you’ve looked your kid in the eyes and told him that, yes indeed, a pacifier fairy really did fly through his window in the middle of the night because she knew he was ready to go to sleep without his favorite security item. Lying to my child in order to force him to take a developmental leap I deemed necessary probably isn't quality parenting.

There have been plenty of little lies throughout the years as well.

“No, honey, we can’t go to the ice skating rink because, ummmm, it’s closed today.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, we can’t buy that new toy because I only brought enough money to the store to buy the other thirty things in our shopping cart."

"Why yes, love, I do think you look beautiful with six bows in your hair and pink lipstick smeared all over your face.”

I justify the inaccurate statements I make to my children in the hopes of building their self-confidence, or protecting them, or letting them down easily, or getting out of a public place without causing an embarrassing meltdown, or . . . or maybe just because I’m too chicken to deal with the ramifications my honesty might bring. I want my children to understand what it means to have restraint, but I don’t always know how to handle their reaction when I deny the instant gratification they crave. I want them to know they don’t have to go somewhere special to have a great time, but I struggle to find pleasure in the ordinary myself some days. I want my kids to be able to find the magic of life, but I’m not sure how much of it I should create for them and when to let reality settle in.

There have been bigger deceptions in my almost nine year stint as a mother as well. Like most American children, I loved the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and Santa Claus when I was a child, and I’ve enjoyed passing down their unique traditions to my own son and daughter. But as Christmas approaches this year and my children are now eight and six, I'm beginning to wonder, at what point do I put a stop to the sham? I received gifts from “Santa” on Christmas morning when I was a college student and thought it was great fun. Still, do I want to continue in this manner with my own kids?

I’ve received all kinds of advice on how to handle the beginning of the end; the moment when your child begins to realize you have tricked him into playing along with a con involving a large bearded man sliding down a chimney while his eight flying reindeer wait on the roof. ?????

Some suggest it’s best to use the old ‘you gotta believe to receive’ adage. I like that one. It doesn’t spill the beans, but it doesn’t come right out and deliver a blatant lie either.

Some people turn the question around when they begin to notice a child having the doubts of a non-believer. “Well honey, who do you think puts the presents under the tree on Christmas Eve?” I like that one too. It encourages critical thinking without incorporating any admission of dishonesty on the part of the parent.

Many people can tell you about the exact moment they learned Santa Claus wasn't real, and some claim is was a devastating event in their lives. I think I suspected long before I truly knew, but either way, I don't remember being significantly upset when I became certain my parents were the ones delivering gifts on Christmas Eve. I think it didn't matter because, regardless of who was doing the actual delivering, I was thrilled to wake up on Christmas day and find packages under the tree with my name on them. Santa or no Santa, I bubbled over with excitement every Christmas Eve, rushing downstairs before the sun came up each Christmas morning. It was ALWAYS my favorite day of the year.

My son is very logical. I could see his wheels turning even before he started kindergarten when his dad and I would tell him about Santa and sleighs and chimneys. He just wasn't buying it. He had lots of questions. Good ones. And I found it tough to come up with explanations that satisfied his skepticism.

After a couple years, Charlie's questions about Santa Claus stopped. Some of my friends think my son decided to believe in Santa despite his doubts. Honestly, I think he just decided to go along with the idea of Santa because his parents weren't leaving him any other choice. I think Charlie knows his dad and I are the ones leaving presents for him and his sister on Christmas Day, and frankly, I'm okay with that. In fact, part of me wants to come right out and confirm his suspicions. Then we can let him get in on the fun of being on the other side of the charade.

I think the reason I'm not distressed about my son's status as a Santa believer has to do with the fact that I have some real concerns about the deceptions we feed our children in the name of good holiday fun. I have concerns that there is real potential for the magical characters of childhood to weaken the case of God.

Whoa. Now that’s serious. You didn't think I was going that deep, did you? Neither did I, but hey, it's good to get out of the shallow end every once in a while, don't you think?

I know it sounds a little nuts, but stick with me for a minute.

Is it possible we're setting our kids up to question the existence of God by putting money under their pillows every time they lose a tooth?

If you think about it, children are likely to put God in the same realm as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. In fact, they might even place God somewhere below such fictional characters, because they can actually sit on Santa’s lap every year. They can talk to him at the mall and receive letters from him in the mail and see the evidence of his existence when they open their eyes to a room full of new goodies every Christmas morning.

What about God? He's not hanging around handing out candy canes in parking lots every December.

We try to explain God's important characteristics to our children with examples, both verbal and physical. We read books about God, tell Bible stories about Him, listen to songs about Him, and pray to Him. Yet, in many homes, God is just a person kids know about because they hear His name mentioned now and again when somebody sneezes.

When I visualize heaven, I think of streets paved in shimmering gold. I picture every flower, tree, and bush of spring blooming at the exact same time. I see layers upon layers of open petals; the bright yellow forsythia has a towering backdrop of pale pink cherry trees, bright pink red buds, and white Dogwoods, while tulips, daffodils, pansies, and violas burst forth in flaming pastels from all directions. I imagine a luminous light reflecting every color in the spectrum so everything around me is exquisitely warm and cheery. I hear angels making the most beautiful music I’ve ever known, music from every instrument harmonizing together to create a constant, fluid melody that rings in my ears and echoes in my soul.

When my kids think about heaven, do they imagine the same glorious splendor of sights and sounds and emotions that I do . . . or are they picturing a workshop filled with toys at the top of the North Pole?

My son hasn't come right out and asked me if Santa Claus is real. I'm not sure he ever will. If he does, I'm sure I'll dodge the question with something about Santa being the symbol of the Christmas spirit, which is most definitely real in those who choose to make it a part of their lives during the holiday season, and hopefully, every day of the year. Or maybe I'll tell him the story of Nicholas, who was born during the third century and raised to care for and help others, especially children. Back then, and still in many places today, he became known as Saint Nicholas - you see where this leads, right?

As long as my son isn't asking me any direct questions about Santa, however, I'm going to keep my mouth shut. I'm going to wrap all his gifts in paper he's never seen. I'm going to make sure he leaves cookies and milk by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. I'm going to be amazed at the treasures in his stocking on Christmas morning. And when the holidays are over and the jolly man has resumed his post on top of the world, I'll stop talking about Santa Claus and how wonderful he is at Christmas time, and instead, I'll tell my son about God, and how wonderful He is ALL THE TIME.