
Skiers dressed as Santa Claus at Sunday River ski resort in Newry, Me., earlier this month. The rarity that once made an outing to see Santa meaningful has quietly faded.LAUREN OWENS LAMBERT/AFP/Getty Images
Rana Pishva is an Ottawa-based clinical psychologist, consultant and author.
Visiting Santa Claus wasn’t part of my own childhood Christmas traditions, but I know how meaningful the experience is for many families. Planning a Santa visit used to be a major event that involved parents aligning schedules with a limited run of appearances, mapping out mall routes, and mentally preparing for the long, restless lines of families waiting for their turn with the man in red. A child’s tentative or eager approach, an earnest ask for a specific gift, a photo keepsake for the holiday-card mailout – these were the precious moments that memories are made of.
Today, Santa is everywhere. He shows up at the mall, tree-lighting ceremonies, breakfasts, pop-up studios, and even virtual events. Santa is optimized for the digital age, too, with visits now bookable ahead of time for maximum efficiency.
The surge in Santa is part of the frenzy of the modern holiday season, where we rush around for as many engagements with family, friends and colleagues as we can. But in doing so, we may have unintentionally diluted the very holiday magic that parents are trying so hard to create.
Why does the heavy lifting of Christmas mostly fall on moms?
The rarity that once made an outing to see Santa meaningful has quietly faded. That’s because when everything is available all the time, or when we’re exposed to the same experience repeatedly, fewer things stand out and the impact of our response diminishes. This psychological process, which is called habituation, occurs in all aspects of our lives. It’s a necessary and automatic adjustment to the world around us – it would be unsustainable to live through everything as if it were the first time – but it can make it harder to notice the world around us.
The more often children see Santa, the less their brains respond with curiosity or excitement. I saw this unfold in my own family last year. When we ran into Santa for the third time in two weeks, I asked my children, “Do you want to go say hello?” My oldest didn’t even look up to say no. My youngest darted over (there was no line of course), quickly told Santa his name and the Lego set he wanted, and ran right back. When something becomes ubiquitous, children come to expect it as a given, rather than experience it as an event.
Preserving novelty is increasingly challenging these days, when holiday decorations appear on store shelves before Halloween and nearly every weekend after Remembrance Day is filled with Christmas-themed baking, crafts and markets. It’s no wonder children and adults become habituated, if not irritated.
Our Santa reveal unravelled so many other magic family moments
Scarcity used to be built into the holiday season. A shorter stretch of celebrations, fewer gifts, fewer themed outings, and a limited number of Santa sightings naturally protected the experience from habituation. But psychologically speaking, parents can reclaim what once felt special by adding meaning through subtraction.
Research consistently shows that to be true more broadly: When an experience is presented as limited or unique, we assign it higher value, react with more emotion, and become more motivated to invest precious time and energy. Scarcity even narrows our attention, creating what researchers call a “tunnelling” effect that helps us focus deeply on the moment. In the world of experiences, such as getting to sit with Santa, limited availability is one of the strongest drivers of both demand and meaning. However, when Santa is available on demand, he simply feels less special.
Planning one special Santa visit can restore some of the wonder that has been lost in recent years due to oversaturation.Amanda Haverstick/The Associated Press
Parents can reverse-engineer this effect. Planning one special Santa visit can restore some of the wonder; if possible, choose a setting that is new or particularly well-decorated for the event. Look for an experience that allows for one-on-one connection. Build anticipation before the big outing by talking about it ahead of time, and treat it as the singular event it is meant to be. And when it’s done, resist the temptation to squeeze in more things to do.
Importantly, pulling back doesn’t have to mean rigid minimalism or reactive overcorrection. I’m certainly not suggesting you turn around and avoid Santa if you happen to spot him twice in one weekend. Rather, it just might mean making different choices, like choosing a walk in the woods or a cozy evening at home instead of visiting another mall or Christmas village.
The antidote to holiday oversaturation is to intentionally reintroduce rarity, which would gently recalibrate the expectations of the season. When we pull back to create space and specialness, instead of packing every moment, we give our children – and ourselves – a renewed chance to feel wonder. And that, in itself, is a special kind of magic.