Well, Virginia, It's a Longer Story . . .

When it comes to Santa Claus, my 9-year-old son is letting go in stages. The other day he made a key tactical concession.

"I've decided I don't believe that elves make all the Christmas presents," he announced. "But I do still believe in Santa himself." He spoke without catching my eye, in a tone that made it clear that the subject was now closed.

It was a poignant moment. A child warming his hands on the dying embers of make-believe, trying to delay passage into the adult world of cold, hard facts. A little boy, pulled in two directions, turning to his father for reassurance.

So how did I respond? With a parental panic attack, of course. The familiar questions came thick and fast: Were we wrong to let our son believe in Santa Claus? Will he be traumatized by the truth? Or feel so betrayed by us that he struggles to form relationships in later life?

These days, the Great Santa Debate isn't just about whether to pretend that every Christmas a paunchy old man in a red suit squeezes down millions of chimneys bearing gifts. Oh no, it goes much deeper than that. It feeds into a broader culture of parental hysteria.

Of course, earlier generations grappled with the Santa question. In 1897, the New York Sun published its famous editorial assuring an 8-year-old girl that "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" and life would be drab without him. But today the Santa debate seems more charged than ever. Just look at the brouhaha stirred up in the blogosphere by Macy's "Believe" advertising and charity campaign, which encourages children to write letters to St. Nick at the North Pole.

With everyone from teachers and celebrities to parents and psychologists weighing in, the battle lines in this debate are starkly drawn. One camp dismisses the Santa story as a pernicious lie that commercializes Christmas, excludes non-Christians and ruptures the trust between parent and child; the other embraces it as a bit of harmless fun that reflects the imagination and wonder of childhood. On both sides, the strength of feeling can be startling. One blogger writes that lying to your children about Santa is a "form of child abuse."

Nor is the sound and fury confined to the online world. I know a couple in Manhattan -- where else? -- who have hired a therapist to help their children cope with the news that Father Christmas is not real.

Santa is also a hot topic in Britain, where I live. Earlier this month, a school near Manchester fired a substitute teacher for telling a class of 7-year-olds that the jolly old man in red did not exist. A few days ago, I brought up the subject with parents at a party in London. One woman stormed off without saying a word. "Last week, a few of us got into a really horrible argument about how to handle the Santa question," explained her friend. "Obviously she's still very worked up."

The same could be said for many parents nowadays -- and not just over Santa Claus. We've already seen it with people starting fights at their children's sporting events and breaking the bank to put on the best birthday party in town. Now the same angst is swirling 'round Christmas, which instead of bringing tidings of comfort and joy now feels like yet another high-stakes test of our ability to parent.

Thanks to smaller families, greater affluence and higher expectations, modern parenting is fraught with anxiety, fear and guilt. It feels as though it's all-or-nothing out there: Your child either breezes through grade school and the Ivy League en route to a glittering career or he's a dropout sleeping rough downtown; he's an Alpha child or a loser. Make even the smallest mistake -- utter a harsh word at the wrong moment or fail to nurture a talent early enough -- and your child will be scarred for life.

The upshot is that we push, polish and protect our children with superhuman zeal. Think Baby Einstein DVDs and Mandarin-speaking nannies; schedules jammed with ballet, football, tutoring, tennis, baseball, piano; GPS tracking devices in the school backpack; bans on such "dangerous activities" as tag, marbles and snowball fights; grade inflation and endless self-esteem initiatives to make everyone feel good about themselves.