We don’t really use the figure of Santa Claus, in my family at least, it’s called the son of Jesus. The story is pretty much the same. He brings gifts to kids that were good kids during the year.

For 10 years I believed that on Christmas I would get grades in the shape of gifts. I would get those gifts from God himself. What could be greater than that?

I would ask adults why some kids didn’t receive what they wanted and the answer seemed the same all the times: They didn’t behave well.

I was proud of myself, most of the times I got what I wanted that meant that God was happy with my behavior, that ultimately I had God’s approval and forgiveness.

I think the whole idea of the son of God existing and bringing gifts itself made the world a better and mystical place.

I use to have a neighbor that went to the same school I did. In the mornings his mom would bring the both of us to school, one of those mornings probably the very first days of January I asked him what the son of God got him and that was when the first brain fuck of my life started.

My friend’s mom told me that the son of God didn’t exist. I denied it. Many times. It was obvious that he existed, how else would I get gifts? From your parents, she said.

That was shocking. I still was in disbelief, I had to ask other kids, some knew that it was their parents some didn’t know. I probably spoiled some of them.

When I went home my parents confirmed what I have been told. That was a sad day. My mom asked me to keep the secret and not tell my brother nor my sister. How could I do that?

Somehow, I still believed in the tooth fairy at least I had that.

It occurred to me to ask my mom how do I make a baby? I think the fact that my brother was newly born had something to do with this. My mom told me that babies are made out of love. It made sense, back then.

Following that I asked: What is love? My mother told me that hugs and kisses like the ones I was receiving was love. What an Epiphany.

I reached many conclusions. That love are babies. That kisses are love and that hugs are love.

Following my math it made sense that the more kisses and hugs the bigger the baby. It also made sense that everything I was watching on TV was real. Whenever I would watch a novel and the people on the TV would kiss each other I would think: Ah! they are making a baby!

Thinking about it, is probably the reason I am not that affectionate. Think about it. Hugs and kisses are how babies are made, if I start kissing and hugging everyone I will have millions of babies.

It took me some time to realize that what my mother has told me was just the beginning of the creation of a baby. Fortunately it takes much more than what I assumed when I was 4 years old. Just imagine how many sons I could potentially have.

In such world paternity tests must be a high demand market. Giant babies could be born out of marathonic hug&kisses sessions. Since girls seems to be smaller than boys I think the trick to have girls would be to hug&kiss less, the trick to have boys specially big boys would probably be to hug&kiss for a long time.

What a weird world my 4 years old me had in mind. That’s probably why questioning assumptions is important.