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Once upon a Christmas Eve, young Matthew and even younger Julie were hovering over their pile of presents. The tree was decorated with multicolored lights, cards from friends & family, and ornaments that Dan and Phil gifted to one another over the last month. And Matthew and Julie were poking, shaking, and weighing every box that had their names on them to determine what their gifts might be.
“This one says ‘from Santa,” Julie said of a present she’d just picked up, her face twisted up a bit, “but it’s not really from Santa.”
“How do you know?” Matthew replied, adopting a sly and secretive tone.
“It’s clearly Dad’s handwriting.”
“Oh,” Matthew said, blinking and pausing. “Well, d’you ever notice how in the movies Santa never writes ‘to from’ tags?”
“Oh yeah,” Julie said. “I wonder why?”
Matthew, of course, knew that was a filmmaking device to skip small details that would slow down the story, but he had to come up with a reason in order to preserve little Julie’s sense of magic. “I think it’s because he just knows which gift is for which child. You know, like how he knows if you’ve been good or naughty. So our Dads have to write the tags in advance to make sure Santa’s gifts don’t get opened by the wrong person.”
“I s’pose,” Julie said, not entirely convinced. She shrugged and put the gift back, deciding to ignore that the gift from “Santa” had arrived considerably too early if it was here before dinnertime on Christmas Eve.
“Matty! Julie! Come set the table!”
At the sound of their new soon-to-be-stepfather’s voice, the kids leapt to their feet. Julie put out the silverware and Matthew took care of pouring soda for everyone to drink. Their father, Phil, and his boyfriend Dan -- an honorary member of the Lester family already -- had prepared homemade pizza (well, from a kit, but fresher and cheaper than ordering!) and the kids were excited to eat.
“Wait!” Phil called. “Not yet. Crackers first!”
Matthew groaned at the silly tradition, while Julie smiled and clapped.
“The toys are so cheap though,” Matthew said.
“Well then I hope I win!” Dan replied. He held out a cracker with a nutcracker design on it for Matthew to take the other end. Matthew sighed and took it.
“Fine,” he said, “but you’re going down!”
Dan chuckled.
“Okay Julie, you take this one,” Phil said meanwhile.
Dan versus Matthew, and Phil versus Julie.
“Ready?” Phil said. “Okay. One, two, three, pull!”
With loud *pop*s, the crackers flew open. Both children had somehow miraculously ended up with the larger part of the cracker, winning the ridiculous cheap toys inside. Matthew, in spite of himself, smiled brightly as he unrolled the tissue paper crown and placed it on his head.
“I have triumphed!” Matthew said.
“Me too!” Julie said. “I got a harmonica!” She blew hard into the plastic noisemaker and tried to make a melody out of it, failing miserably but still enjoying herself.
“I got the tiny playing cards!” Matthew said. “I don’t know why I love these so much. Tiny versions of normal things are so cute.”
“They really are,” Phil said.
“Okay, okay, time to eat--” Dan started.
“Wait, no, they have to read the jokes!” Phil said.
“No they don’t,” Dan replied.
But Matthew had already unfolded his and was reading. “Why did Santa’s helper go to an analyst?”
“Why?” Phil asked.
“Because he had low ‘elf’-esteem!”
Dan groaned. Julie giggled. Phil laughed heartily, as though he genuinely found that joke funny.
***
After pizza, the family set out a mince pie and some biscuits for Santa, then turned on a movie. Normally by 9 pm, Julie would be out cold, but at 9:30 when the movie was nearly finished she was still wide awake and looking rather distressed.
“Julie, honey?” Phil said, nudging her.
“Hm?” she replied, her big wide eyes looking thoughtful but somewhat distressed.
“You okay? You look a bit… I don’t know. Sad, maybe?”
“Well…” Julie said, looking down a bit. “I think it’s time for you to be honest with me, Dad.”
“What about?”
“Uh-oh,” Dan said. “Here it comes.”
“Here what comes?” Phil asked him.
“Santa Claus isn’t real, is he?” Julie asked, looking at Phil with a pleading expression. She wasn’t asking in the sense that she was looking for an answer. She’d already realized the truth, Phil realized, and she needed confirmation.
Knowing there was no way to convince her otherwise, Phil relaxed a bit, however unhappily. “No, sweetheart. He’s not.”
“Not in the sense you’re thinking, anyway,” Dan said.
“Huh?” Julie asked, confused, turning toward Dan.
“Santa… is sort of all of us,” he explained. “Generosity, kindness, hope… those are all Santa. That childlike wonder that you see in people like your Dad. The excitement you felt blowing into that silly harmonica, too.”
“Hey,” Julie said with a tiny smile. “That harmonica is not silly. It’s a treasure.”
Dan smiled brightly. “You’re right about that. It’s a treasure because it made you so happy. There was no person called Santa Claus who needed to come and bring you that.”
“I guess not.”
“Besides,” Matthew cut in. “Who’s to say there’s definitely not a Santa? Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence. Isn’t there always one gift under the tree what Dad can’t remember where it came from? Maybe that’s from Santa, who knows?”
Julie giggled at past memories that Dan wasn’t aware of, but that didn’t seem out of place in the life of Phil Lester at all.
“Either way,” Phil said. “Don’t worry. There might not be a Father Christmas like you see in picture books, but the magic you feel on Christmas Eve? The love you feel when we’re all together? That’s all real. Father Christmas is just… sort of like a grown-up’s way of trying to sum all that up.”
“And as long as you stay curious and childlike and kind, Santa will keep living forever,” Dan continued. “I worry sometimes that you’re a bit too precocious.”
“What’s prakoshus mean?”
“It means wise beyond your years. You’ve been through a lot in your short life, you’ve seen way too much of the grown-up world. Don’t forget to be a child, okay?”
“I never forgot to be a child,” Phil said joyfully.
Dan giggled. “Yes, we can all tell that!”
Julie and Matthew laughed along with him.
“So then you really are Santa, Dad? Like, sort of?”
Phil smiled. “Sort of.”
“Then that’s why all the presents say ‘from Santa’ in your handwriting!”
“Exactly!”
Julie slowly gasped. “And you’re the one who’s going to eat the mince pie!”
“Hey,” Dan said. “He’s splitting it with me, you know.” He looked at Phil. “You’d better split it with me, you rat.”
Satisfied, Julie hopped up. “Thanks, Dads. I feel a lot better.”
“I’m glad,” Dan said.
“I’m going to go to sleep now. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner ‘Santa’ comes!” Julie gave her dads a wink and ran off to bed.
“Alright. Goodnight, Julie!” Phil called with a smile.
“I should sleep too,” Matthew said. “I may nearly be a teenager but I still want Christmas morning to come as soon as possible!”
Phil laughed. “Never change, Matty.”
“Well I have to change sometimes, otherwise my clothes would stink.”
Dan groaned. “Stop with the bad jokes, oh my god.”
***
The kids were long asleep, and Dan and Phil had eaten that mince pie & placed the last batch of gifts “from Santa” under the tree. They snuggled up on the sofa to watch Love Actually (the uncut version, which they definitely had to watch after the kids had gone to bed), and relaxed into each other’s arms.
“That was uncharacteristically wholesome of you, Dan.”
“I know. But sometimes the situation calls for it.”
“I really liked what you said,” Phil continued. “About what Santa really is.”
“Good,” Dan said, “because I pulled it completely out of my ass.”
Phil laughed. “That tells me a lot about you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You’re a good person, Dan. You’re really kind. You bring out the best in all three of us.”
“Thanks.”
“Merry Christmas, love.”
“Merry Christmas, Phil.”
They fell asleep there on the sofa, holding each other, as visions of mince pies danced in their heads.