The Magic of Christmas and the Aunt Who Means Well (But Might Ruin It Anyway)

There is a particular kind of chaos that settles into a home in December, and it always amazes me that people still talk about Christmas as though it simply appears. As though the cinnamon scented coziness, the twinkling Christmas lights, the matching holiday pyjamas and the perfectly wrapped Christmas gifts glide into the house like migrating birds. Any mother celebrating Christmas with young children knows better. Christmas does not arrive. It is constructed.

Children believe in Santa because a mother pays attention to the smallest details. The handwriting that looks nothing like hers. The cookie crumbs arranged to hint at a midnight visit. The carrots bitten just enough to suggest enthusiastic reindeer. The woman who creates the Christmas magic steps out of sight so the fantasy can stand in the spotlight. That is part of the job description.

This is why the most disruptive presence during the holidays is not the person who does not care about Christmas. It is the enthusiastic aunt.

There is a particular type of aunt who wants proximity to the Christmas magic without understanding the ecosystem that sustains it. She buys Christmas gifts “from Santa” but chooses them in a way that makes it obvious they were from her. Even more problematic is the aunt who talks about Santa within earshot of the children, loudly and casually, conveniently ‘forgetting’ that children listen while pretending not to. She wants the children to feel wonder, but she also wants to be recognized as the source of it. She wants to stand inside the illusion while competing with it, and that contradiction is where the architecture of enchantment strains.

Being the best aunt ever at Christmas is actually very simple. Buy a gift from yourself. Offer it with affection. Receive full credit. Everyone is happy. Santa keeps his mythical dignity, the children keep their Christmas excitement and nostalgia, and the mother’s invisible labour remains undisturbed.

Mothers are not asking for applause for creating a magical Christmas morning. We simply do not want someone who contributed none of the preparation to unravel the illusion that has been sustained with effort and intention.

There is an easy rule of Christmas etiquette that far more relatives should follow.

If you did not lift a finger to build the magic, do not be the one to tear it down.

The myth of Santa endures not because children are naïve, but because mothers and those who create it are willing to be uncredited. That is the real Christmas magic.

Amy Perry is a Millennial mother living in Italy. You can find her book “What to Expect When She’s Expecting – An Honest Guide to Supporting the New Mom in Your Life,” a book for husbands, soon to be grandparents, aunts and uncles on Amazon.