Edited by: Bhavika Rawat
Every great legend has an origin story. Harry Potter was almost killed by a wand-wielding maniac as a baby. Hercules strangled a snake as a baby. What about Santa? Why has no one ever tried to explore the truth of Santa as a baby? My theory is that his PR team was just too good.
Until now.
Presenting—for the first time in history—BABY SANTA!
It was a cold snowy night up in the North Pole when Nicholas Claus was delivered in a gingerbread cottage by elves who chewed on candy canes. His cheeks were so rosy that they melted the snow around him and his cries sounded like jingling bells.
While other babies hid behind curtains and under beds, baby claus had the chimney marked as his personal hide-out spot. He loved the acoustics in there that only served to enhance his jingly cries. Eventually, this became a daily ritual. He would disappear for hours, scaring the elf-nanny half to death, and come back down the fireplace covered in ash and soot like some kind of festive gremlin. Naturally, this became his all-time means of travelling, because if it worked as a baby, it should obviously work as a fully grown gigantic adult. Basically, baby santa imprinted on chimneys like a duckling to its mother. The only thing that changed? It is us who receive him instead of the elf-nanny.
As a baby, Santa had no interest in lullabies and being rocked in safe, loving arms. The only thing he responded to were cookies. Cookies with a gallon of milk on the side. Any elf who tried to substitute those sweet, sweet cookies with a healthy porridge was quickly faced with a brutal meltdown—a literal one with all the snow exploding off of the candy canes that littered the garden. So, the elves, scared of the baby, quickly learned to give it what it wanted, so much so that they even left out the cookies preemptively whenever they saw Santa disappearing so that they were there when he got back. The tradition lives on. All this and why? Baby claus was terrifying.
The naughty list that kids are told of today—Santa’s so-called “moral compass”—actually began as a passive-aggressive burn book titled Elves and Reindeer Who Wronged Me. The reindeer didn’t let him ride itself? In the book. Forgot his cookies? In the book. Used his candy cane teether for yourself? Permanently in the book. To this day, he still updates the burn book with the same petty smile on his face— only in cursive now.
Originally, baby claus wore soft pastels like every normal infant. One day however, the elf-nanny tossed her red scarf into the wash. Lo and behold! Every onesie turned crimson. What would the natural reaction be at this point? To cry? No. Not Santa. He thrived, calling red his “power colour”, refusing to buy any new clothes. It made him look like an overripe tomato but he didn’t care. Red became part of his brand all because of a laundry mishap and a dash of overconfidence.
Once baby santa started crawling across ice caps, trying to lasso the moon with licorice rope, it became clear that elves were too slow and too short to contain him. So they enlisted reindeer— agile, cold-resistant, and extremely emotionally unavailable, except for Rudolph. He was the youngest and had a nose that glowed due to prenatal exposure to candy cane. Santa got attached. After all, Rudy’s red nose matched his brand perfectly. The rest is history.
Baby claus was surprisingly terrified of elves changing his diaper. He would scream like a banshee anytime anyone tried to change his diaper. So, they started wrapping and unwrapping his diaper around him like a present—slowly, with little flourishes of “ta-da!”s at the end. Weirdly, this seemed to calm him down. He grew up thinking all good things come gift-wrapped.Â
All these are nice little anecdotes about Santa that explain why he is what he is. But have you ever wondered why anyone would willingly give away all their gifts to others? It all started when baby santa refused to sleep. The elves tried everything. Rocking chairs, magical lullabies, sugary cookies until suddenly, one elf placed a wooden duck beside him and whispered, “this is for you, little sir”. Baby Santa stopped mid-wail. He looked at the duck. He looked at the elf. Back at the duck and nodded solemnly. It was his first real gift. And, he was hooked. From then on, he expected gifts everyday. He even set up a system. For every tantrum not thrown, he wanted a reward. That is correct. Santa used the naughty and nice list for himself. He was both CEO and customer.Â
But there is still no explanation for why he gives gifts. One day, Rudolph was sad because the other reindeer calves were making fun of his red nose. So innocent baby Santa thought if toys make him happy, they must make everyone else happy too. He gave one of his toys to Rudy. The calf’s nose became even redder, it wagged its tail so hard Santa thought it would start flying—and then it did! Baby Santa beamed with pride. Giving felt better than recieving! From then on, he started handing out toys to all the reindeer calves, and then he expanded to all the baby animals in the North Pole, even the polar bear cubs. He was still not satisfied. One day, he pointed to a miniature globe and said “More.” And now? He distributes gifts to every child on Earth. All because Baby Santa liked bribes, hated sleep, and once made a reindeer very happy.Â
So, the next time you wonder why Santa squeezes through chimneys, devours your cookies, judges your decisions, and gives you all that you want, remember—it all started with an overdramatic, sugar-fueled baby who had too much magic and too little supervision.
Santa did not just become a legend one happy day. He toddled his way into it.