Never Lose Your Sense of Wonder...

Buddy Peanut lounging on the thermostat

The day after Thanksgiving, an elf (named Buddy Peanut by Ella and Sophia) comes to visit our house. Every night Buddy returns to the North Pole to report back to Santa Claus on our behavior and ends up in a different spot the next day.

A couple of weeks ago Ella, my 8-year-old, said, "Buddy's eyes look like they're painted on. Why are his legs sewn together?" She paused, looking pensive. "Dad, is Buddy real?"

"I don't ask questions," I replied, feeling the dubious eyes of my 8-year-old. "All that matters is what you believe."

Last year around Christmastime, I wrote about Ella's skepticism of a mall Santa, her first hint of doubt on the subject. With her questions about Buddy the elf, she might have taken another step toward a dream-dashing, reality-infused adulthood. I'm not naive; I know that all kids grow up and secrets eventually get divulged. So why did Ella's normal transition from idealism to realism make me feel so sad?

When we are young, we believe everything our parents tell us. To be successful adults, we need to make decisions based on logic and intellect. It's not always an advantage to accept everything at face value. When it comes to matters of faith, like Buddy Peanut's nightly rendezvous with Santa, rules go out the window.

Having watched my two daughters grow up for the last eight years, I've noticed that a large percentage of childhood is spent in a fantasy world. I am constantly dragged into the world of role-play and make-believe. While I don't always participate, I at least enjoy watching it. Ella and her 5-year-old sister, Sophia, escape into worlds without boundaries or limitations, unburdened by the anchors of reality.

Sometimes I watch them and realize that once their fanciful beliefs get shattered, they will never be the same again. I ask myself how they are going to manage in a world filled with tragedy, violence, greed and negativity, without the advantage of an easy escape.

Lately, I've realized two things: part of my role as a parent is to nurture the mysteries that make childhood magical. And more importantly, growing up shouldn't equate to losing one's sense of wonder.

Christmas spirit means more than Santa Claus being pulled by flying reindeer and bringing presents to every child in the world in one night. It is about sharing undying love, celebrating life and believing in something greater.

At Christmas, more than any other time, we need to trust our convictions. These notions can and should exist at any age. In order for us to live fulfilled lives, they should be strengthened, not weakened, over time.

Ella eventually stopped asking questions about Buddy. I overheard her talking to her sister that night. "Sophia," she began, "if Buddy hears us saying he might not be real, he might stop coming and tell Santa we don't believe." Sophia nodded passionately, and I knew right then the realities of adulthood would wait another year.

For me, too.

Merry Christmas.

Love Beats Money, Every Time

Ella came home from school excited to recount a story from one of her teachers.

"Mrs. Vesely visited a village in Africa where some of the poorest people live. And it turns out," Ella said excitedly, "they're really happy."

Tanya, my wife, challenged our third-grader. "Wouldn't it make sense that the more you have, the happier you would be?"

"No, it's not money that makes you happy. It's love," Ella replied.

"Did Mrs. Vesely tell you that?" Tanya probed.

Ella shook her head. "I figured it out on my own."

Ella stumbled upon a realization that may forever alter her view of life. At the risk of simplifying a complex issue, and to paraphrase the Beatles, love may indeed be all we need. Could it really be that simple?

Around holiday time, it's easy to get caught up in the cult of commercialism. Even if we make our yearly shopping pilgrimages strictly to buy for others, it's easy to get sucked into collecting things for ourselves, too. The barrage of advertisements tells us more is better, and it's hard to resist stockpiling our possessions.

I'm not against pumping funds into our struggling economy, and I'm certainly not against responsible gift-giving to loved ones and the less fortunate. The problem is when the tendency to buy gifts overtakes the desire for generosity of spirit, which is the true meaning of the holidays. It doesn't happen intentionally, but materialism has a way of transcending the meaningful by playing on our greed. While that new toy or necklace might give short-term happiness, it can never replace our need for quality time with one another.

A friend of mine and his wife in Chicago decided a few years ago that from now on at Christmas they would forgo gifts for each other. They donate the money they would have spent and instead volunteer their time and energy at schools and shelters. They give gifts that help their beneficiaries more than any wrapped present could, and they feel better. Emotions can't be quantified on a balance sheet.

Along the same lines, gifts can't provide love. No matter how much I love my television and my iPod, they don't hug back. When I die, I'll never remember what I got for Christmas in 2011, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember serving someone a hot meal or snuggling in bed with my kids on Christmas morning.

This discussion repeats itself every year because it's easy to get swept up in the holiday hoopla. I lament the absurd sales that begin at midnight and the unimaginable sums of money spent on gifts that go unused by Presidents Day. Every year, I vow to buy fewer gifts and to pay more attention to things like volunteerism, charity and human connection. Alas, I am a work in progress.

So given our insatiable desire for emotionless possessions, is it possible to be happy with only the bare necessities?

Only if Ella and the Beatles were right.

The Discipline Dilemma

The other day my 8-year-old daughter, Ella, was telling me about something that happened at school when Sophia interrupted her. Ella was indignant.

"Excuse me, Sophia, I was in the middle of speaking. Do not interrupt me," she said. After a breath she continued. "When I have kids, that's what I'm going to say. I'm going to discipline them."

Young children need constant guidance and, as Ella pointed out, discipline. There are many philosophies about teaching right from wrong. Having said that, Ella's comment brought to mind an interesting issue. What does discipline really mean?

For many of us, the D-word conjures images of snapping belts, raised voices and bottom spankings. But the Latin root of the word, discipulus, means student. Another variation, disciplina, translates to "instruction" and not, as is commonly thought, punishment.

My wife and I, like all other parents, deal with dozens of situations on a daily basis that require some form of teaching, correction and consequences. Some incidents are more dire than others (crossing the street without looking versus skipping chores) but all are important. There's a fine line between punishment and teaching, and all parents make a lot of mistakes.

In a 2010 national research poll from C.S. Mott Children's Hospital, 22 percent of parents said they likely are to spank their children, 88 percent choose to reason with their children, and 70 percent tend to take away privileges. And while each parent's choice is based on their own experiences and preferences, it is crucial to be informed before we act.

Many organizations, including the American Psychology Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics, advocate against the use of physical means for discipline, citing overwhelming evidence of negative consequences.

In 2002, the psychologist Elizabeth Thompson Gershoff, Ph.D, of the National Center for Children in Poverty at Columbia University, published an analysis based on 62 years worth of data.

She looked for associations between corporal punishment and 11 child behaviors and experiences. She found "strong associations" between corporal punishment and all 11 behaviors, only one of which was deemed desirable: immediate compliance on the part of the child.

The undesirables included physical abuse by a parent, child aggression, and criminal or antisocial behavior in both childhood and adulthood.

Research also has shown that after punishment, children avoid the action that led to the punishment but don't always understand why. If our goal is to teach our children to be responsible citizens who understand the difference between right and wrong, then exerting our physical power over them doesn't equate to discipline.

Aggression of that nature serves merely as an outlet for frustrated parents. Indeed, it takes more time and energy to educate a child than it does to hit them.

I felt Ella's attempt at discipline might have been a little harsh. "Ella," I told her, "Sophia shouldn't have interrupted you, but she's not your daughter, she's your 5-year-old sister. In the future, leave the discipline to me and Mom."

Hopefully, Ella and Sophia both learned a lesson.