Mateo, a child, sits at a debate table opposite an empty chair. He’s surrounded by twenty Santa Claus Deniers, each holding a red flag.
MATEO: My name is Mateo, I’m six years old, and Santa Claus is real.
The sound of a countdown can be heard, “3…2…1… ding.” Several Santa Deniers dive toward the empty debate chair. Santa Denier 1 arrives first.
SANTA DENIER 1: Hi. Okay, I just… with everything we know, how can you still think Santa is real?
MATEO: Well, every Christmas morning, there are REAL presents under my tree FROM Santa.
SD1: But you know it’s not Santa putting those there.
MATEO: Who else would it be?
SD1: Your parents, obviously.
MATEO: But every year, my friend Liam wakes up at his house, and there are presents under his tree from Santa too.
SD1: Right, because HIS parents put presents under HIS tree and tell him they’re from Santa.
MATEO: So, you’re claiming there is some worldwide conspiracy that EVERY mommy and daddy in the world is in on?
SD 1: Well, I wouldn’t call it a “conspiracy”…
MATEO: Think about what it would require to pull off a scheme like that, and to what end? I can’t get ten of my friends to agree on whether we’re going to play regular tag or freeze tag at recess. But you think hundreds of millions of parents, over generations, have coordinated to trick the world’s children into what? Accepting gifts? They would accept gifts no matter who they’re from. They’re children. Do you see how crazy what you’re suggesting sounds?
Santa Denier 1 leaves in shame. The countdown plays, “3…2…1…” And the next Santa Denier dives into the chair.
SANTA DENIER 2: I work as a forensic accountant. If Santa is making all these toys in his workshop for free, as you believe, then why are toy companies seeing their highest profits every year around Christmas time?
MATEO: Well, Santa doesn’t do all the presents. I make presents for Mommy and Daddy out of dry macaroni, but my friend Liam, who isn’t as good at glue as I am, probably just buys things for his parents. And there are gifts for brothers, sisters, grandchildren, nieces, nephews…
SD2: But surely socks from your grandparents and a LEGO set from your uncle aren’t enough to account for the huge jump in profits.
MATEO: Let me reframe this for you. Imagine you run a business where you know most of your sales come in at the end of the year. You’d probably make sure your prices were at their highest during those high-volume months, would you not? So, then why, starting the day after Thanksgiving, do we see all these stores marking things down 60 percent or more? The only reason you’d consider a promotion like that, during your busiest months, would be if you had competition undercutting your prices; perhaps competition that makes toys in his workshop and gives them away for free.
The bell dings.
SANTA DENIER 3: I’m a physicist. I’ve run the numbers. For Santa to visit every child in the world in one night, his reindeer would have to fly at over three million miles per hour. You’re stupid if you believe that’s what’s happening.
MATEO: What’s the fastest you’ve seen a reindeer fly?
SD3: They don’t fly. That’s the point.
MATEO: So, you’ve personally seen a reindeer try to fly and fail?
SD3: Every time I’ve seen a reindeer, they’re just standing there, chewing grass.
MATEO: By your own admission, you’ve never seen a reindeer even attempt to fly. But you think you can confidently tell me that (a) you KNOW reindeer cannot fly, and (b) you know the absolute speed limitations of a thing you’ve never seen occur?
The bell Dings. The session ends.
Post-debate interviews:
SD1: That kid is so brainwashed. I hate him.
MATEO’S MOM: I’m sorry, you did what?
MATEO’S DAD: Why would you bring a bunch of people here to tell my son Santa isn’t real?
SANTA: Mateo needs to watch out. I’ve spent generations convincing people that I’m not real in order to slowly phase myself out. Finally, I’ve got parents buying, wrapping, and giving presents while still giving me credit. It’s sort of like passive income that would allow me to retire, but I’m afraid Mateo is about to absolutely beef my shit. Talk about naughty! Something has to be done about him.
MATEO: I know Santa’s scheme, and I know I’m ruining it. Go ahead, try to do something about me, Santa, I dare you, because it’d be a real shame if something happens to me and I’m not able to wake up on Christmas morning and stop my scheduled email to Mrs. Claus with the pictures I took when I snuck out of my room last Christmas Eve and saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus and then Santa “having some milk and cookies,” if you catch my drift.
MATEO’S MOM: I don’t know what he’s talking about, honey. Santa isn’t real.
