Now that Christmas has come and gone, I’d like to put my cards on the table about myths and lying.

Every time I see a child sitting on Santa’s lap or see Santa distributing candy from a firetruck to kids in our communities, I ask myself: “Are we parents doing a disservice to our children by leading them on in believing that a fat guy being guided by ‘eight tiny reindeer’ (nine, I guess, if you count Rudolph) somehow comes down chimneys to deliver lots of Christmas goodies to delighted children everywhere all in one night?

No, I did not receive lumps of coal for being naughty as a kid, and, yes, I played Santa to my three sons. So, what’s my problem, right?

Is it ever ethical to lie? I guess the textbook answer is “no,” but, in reality, we lie all the time. We gloss over the majority of these lies by convincing ourselves that they fall into the “little white lie” category. These are instances where we assure ourselves that we are lying for a good cause.

Philosopher Charles Fried said that lying is always wrong, because it shows disrespect for the person to whom we are lying. Others, however, do not find it as clear-cut. They view the intent of the lie in determining how harmful it might be. Lying to a family member who will be the honoree of a surprise birthday party is perfectly acceptable, most believe.

One thing is certain: Even the most ethical person tells a lie now and then. It’s part of our DNA. Yes, my word is my bond, but I, too, tell occasional white lies to get me out of uncomfortable situations.

My mother warned me that if I lied, my nose would grow like Pinocchio’s, or my pants might spontaneously burst into flames.

Most people look upon “little white lies” as acceptable behavior. If they don’t harm anyone, what’s the problem? Telling mom that her broccoli was really tasty when you hate broccoli, telling your husband that he looks great in that godawful tie, or telling a friend who wanted to get together with you that you had a previous commitment when you didn’t - these are presumably all examples of OK little white lies.

These are known as “prosocial” lies. They mislead, but they also benefit the person we’re lying to. One might refer to it as “benevolent deception.”

I remember when I was 10 years old, my mother and I were visiting a friend in Nesquehoning whose 6-year-old granddaughter was there. She began babbling on about Christmas and all of the stuff that Santa was going to bring her.

Since I had recently found the truth about the Santa caper, the now older and wiser Bruce would show this misguided child the error of her beliefs. “You fool,” I told her, “there is no Santa Claus.” Her demeanor changed as if she had been struck by a Mack truck. She let out a wail, which brought her grandmother and my mother rushing to see what had befallen this unfortunate child.

When the girl told them what I had said, my mother shot me a look that could have brought forth the demons from Hell. When we got home, she administered corrective measures for my intemperate disclosure.

I was confused and reminded her that she told me always to tell the truth. That is the instant that I learned about prosocial lies. She told me I should have said nothing or gone along with the girl’s fantasy about Santa.

Learning from the Santa incident, 11 years ago, when my then-8-eight-year-old granddaughter, confronted me with the dreaded “Is Santa Claus real?” question, I dodged the inquiry and referred her to her parents. Let them be the bearers of bad news, or let them get off the hook as best they can, I reasoned.

My 58-year-old son recently reminded me of something I had forgotten. When he approached me with his skepticism about Santa Claus, I told him Saint Nicholas, also known as Kris Kringle, had been a real person, and even if the toys were delivered by mom and dad, the spirit of Christmas walks the face of the earth, and that is the really important message.

While we are on the topic of the Santa myth, how about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy? By the way, what is the going rate these days for a baby tooth left under the pillow by an expectant child? I used to get a dime back in the mid-1940s.

By Bruce Frassinelli?|?tneditor@tnonline.com