By: Me, age 6

Everyone keeps saying it’s almost time to see Santa. They say it like it’s fun. Like it’s sparkly and magical and full of jingle bells.

And maybe it is—for other kids.

But for me? Well… it’s kind of a lot.

When I think about seeing Santa, my tummy does a weird flipping thing. You know that feeling when you go down a slide too fast and your belly jumps? It feels like that, but it doesn’t stop.

Because Santa isn’t just a guy.

He’s Big. And Red. And LOUD—or at least the room he’s in is. It’s full of people and music and rules and waiting and smells and blinking lights. My brain gets buzzy in places like that. It’s like all the buttons in my body get pushed at once.

Everyone tells me Santa is “nice”…
But they don’t talk about everything else.

They don’t talk about how many rules come with Santa:

• Don’t run.
• Don’t climb.
• Don’t hide.
• Don’t touch.
• Don’t hit.
• Don’t melt down.
• Smile!
• Wait!
• Sit still!
• Look here!

It’s a lot of “don’t” for a kid whose body already has a hard time staying in the lines.

And I try.

Really, I do.

But sometimes the lights are too bright.

And the people are too close.

And the sounds are too crashy.

And then my body does things faster than my brain can help with.

Like when my hands get grabby or even hitt-y. I don’t hit because I want to be mean. I hit because my feelings get too big for my skin and I don’t know how to keep them all inside.

That’s the part that scares me the most:
the “nice” part.

Grown-ups say “Be nice!” like it’s as easy as tying your shoes. But for me, “nice” gets tangled.

What if Santa watches me make a big mistake?

What if he thinks I’m not good because I got overwhelmed?

What if he doesn’t know how hard I’m trying?

But then I remember something important…
Something only Santa Magic knows.

Santa knows what nice really is. And what it’s not.

Santa knows that “nice” isn’t about being quiet.

Or still.

Or perfectly behaved.

Santa knows that sometimes kids hit because they’re scared, or because they are dealing with trauma.

It is not always that they are naughty.

Santa knows that overwhelmed doesn’t mean bad.

Santa knows that trying—even after a meltdown—and making a new, better choice, is the real kind of nice.

Santa knows that hearts like mine love big, feel big, and try big—even when our bodies don’t get the message right away.

He sees the whole kid—not just the tricky parts.

And maybe… just maybe… Santa knows that nice looks different on different kids.

Sometimes nice looks like trying again.

Sometimes nice looks like saying sorry.

Sometimes nice looks like holding a grown-up’s hand so you can feel safe.

Sometimes nice looks like taking a break and coming back.

Sometimes nice looks loud and wiggly and learning.

Santa knows all of that.

He’s been doing this a long time.

So maybe seeing Santa will still feel scary.

Maybe it’ll still be loud.

Maybe I’ll still need help.

But maybe Santa will understand me in the ways that matter.

And maybe that means I can be brave enough to try.