How Old Is Santa Claus? A North Pole Mystery

We are seeking answers to an age-old question today: How old is Santa Claus? And does the Elf on the Shelf have insider information? After all, the elf lives at the North Pole with Santa Claus the whole year long, except for the time when he’s living in your house, keeping an eye on you to see if you’re on the nice or the naughty list. I asked Spike, but he’s not talking. Maybe that’s because his name is Peppermint. Allow me to explain: Our Elf on the Shelf is named Peppermint Spike Chrysanthemum. It’s what you call a compromise name. One of us wanted Spike, one wanted Peppermint, and one wanted Chrysanthemum. Whatever we call him, he’s not answering because he’s too busy watching to make sure one of us isn’t being naughty. “Okay, before this conversation gets both of you on the naughty list…” “Never! Not me!” “…we want to know How old is Santa Claus?” “He’s probably like a million years old.” “Nobody’s a million years old. Stop arguing.” Chrysanthemum is watching and reporting back to Santa. It’s like we have a spy in the house.

It was Christmas Eve at the kingdom of the One True North. The scout elves were working harder than ever, wrapping gifts, transporting them, and feeding the reindeer. “We’ve got a hot one, Snowdae!” Hollie, a mail sorter, said, bursting through the doors of the mail room grotto. Hollie handed an envelope to Pippin Snowdae—a great name! It was Pippin’s job to read last-minute letters to Santa Claus and reply to each and every one, which is a huge job considering how many children write to Santa. Pippin ripped open the envelope in anticipation and began reading. “Dear North Pole, my name is Sofi, and I am six years old,” Pippin said anxiously. But when Pippin read what came next, his face fell. It was the same question he’d seen again and again: “How old is Santa Claus?” Pippin read with a sigh. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving his usual response. “Santa is timeless, ageless, and eternally young at heart,” he said out loud before he slumped into his chair. “Just once, I’d like to get to the bottom of that mystery and give a real answer.” He asked Hollie, “Do you know how old Santa Claus might be?” Hollie pointed to the Mail Room Elf Creed. They have a creed? It reads: “We will not rest. We’ll do our best when questions put us to the test.” So, did Hollie know? “No, but you’ll find an answer.” Grasping the letter, Pippin dashed out the door, hopped on his elf board, and raced down the snow-covered hill. This little scout elf was going to get an answer for Sofi, no matter what. Wow, Pippin is a really good snowboarder. I wonder if Peppermint is good at it. Peppermint is probably the best at it. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably the best.” Well, I do hear that elves are excellent ice skaters as well.

Pippin races down the hill, determined to find an answer for Sofi.

Speeding down the hill like a runaway snowball, Pippin almost passed by Barry the St. Bernard and Noorah the magical Arctic Fox, two of Santa’s oldest and best friends. “Wait a second!” Pippin said. “I’m sure those two will know how old Santa is.” Before Pippin could even ask, Barry barked and howled, “Yes, I know! He’s timeless, ageless, and eternally young at heart.” The little scout elf turned to Noorah, determined not to accept the usual answer. Noorah used her magical powers to whip up an ice sculpture. Is she related to Elsa? “Fisbee?” Pippin asked, recognizing the sculpture of the Elder Scout Elf. The Elder Scout Elf has seniority. “Do you mean I should ask him? Well, then I shall!” We were chasing down a hot lead on a cold night. Pippin hurriedly jumped back on his elf board like a boss and continued down the hill. “Fisbee is one of Santa’s most trusted friends and the first ever scout elf to fly. If anyone knows how old Santa is, it must be Fisbee.” When Pippin arrived at the stables, Fisbee was dropping off a specially prepared treat for Santa’s long sleigh ride around the world. “It’s an 801-flavor candy cane,” Fisbee said proudly. “801 flavors?! What are they?” “Peppermint. All peppermint,” Fisbee replied. I didn’t even know there were so many flavors of peppermint. “Santa loves peppermint.” There was also Sparkles McGee—what a great name, right? Also, Fisbee looked amazingly young for an “elder elf.” “It’s because the cold freezes elf faces.” “Yeah, Spike told us.” Okay, Chrysanthemum doesn’t talk, but we read it in Peppermint’s eyes. Just a reminder: We are all three of us talking about the same elf. Three names, one elf.

Pippin giggled, then asked, “Fisbee, how old is Santa?” Fisbee thought for a moment and then smiled. “Well, how old do you think Santa is?” Pippin honestly had no idea. He wondered if perhaps Santa was so old that he was around when pirates sailed the seven seas. “Maybe Santa was a swashbuckler soaring through the night sky with his band of piratey elves and reindeer with an eye patch delivering treasures to the world!” Fisbee chuckled. “Ha! Santa is older than that.” Ho Ho Ahoy there! “Older than pirates?!” Pippin replied. The scout elf could not believe it. “Why do you want to know how old Santa is?” Fisbee asked. Pippin explained that a little girl had asked a question, and he was tired of giving the same old, same old answer. I mean, I get it, right? Sometimes you want a different answer. Fisbee smiled. “Maybe humans aren’t supposed to know how old Santa is.” Hmm. Why? “Perhaps keeping his age a mystery is part of the wonder of Christmas.” “Okay, I see your point, Fisbee.” Pippin sighed again. Fisbee pointed to the mountains. “Maybe Delshimerry will know.” Delshimerry? Another fascinating name. But who is this Delshimerry?

Fisbee reveals that Santa is older than pirates, deepening the ancient mystery.

With a WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH, Pippin sailed on his elf board, jumping over snow drifts on his way toward the Mountains of Enchantment where the wise and courageous Delshimerry dwelled. “Pippin!” Delshimerry said, greeting the elf. “Care for some pomegranate?” “Thanks, but not right now. I am on a most serious mission and I need your help.” I appreciate the seriousness of the mission, but really, have some of the pomegranate. In a flash, Pippin told Delshimerry about his dilemma, then quickly added, “I hear he’s older than pirates.” Delshimerry laughed and was ready to speak when Pippin blurted excitedly, “Oh, oh, do you think Santa is as old as knights? Maybe he had dragons instead of flying reindeer! Eight fantastic fire-breathing dragons full of holiday cheer!” He speculated their names hypothetically would have been Twister, Tailswing, Thrasher, Crasher, Talon, Cinder, Whiskers, and Balwing. I like Thrasher! I like Talon! I mean, those names are fierce, but they don’t sound particularly Christmassy to me. Delshimerry couldn’t help but laugh. “Would it surprise you to learn that Santa is even older than dragons?” The scout elf’s jaw nearly hit the snow. “Older than dragons?!” he replied. “Well, how much older are we talking here? Forty, sixty, eighty years older? We want specifics!” Pippin threw his hands up in amazement. With a sly grin, Delshimerry said, “You know, revealing Santa’s exact age could make him seem less enchanting.” “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” “I would, but you seem to be having a lot of fun discovering it for yourself.” Well, it is true these hypothetical scenarios are pretty wild. Delshimerry continued: “You might try speaking with the wise master Holler—” “Hollerdon!” Pippin cried out, his voice trailing off as he sped away, fearing he had little time left to waste. “Thank you!” That’s right! It’s Christmas Eve! We’re on a deadline here. Let’s go. Let’s go! Pippin smiled as he whisked towards Hollerdon’s home in Luminscients Landing. I’m not quite sure I’m saying it right. Hollerdon knew everything. Surely he’d know Santa’s real age.

As Pippin rounded a snowbank like a boss, something up ahead caught his attention. “Little Grunt!” Pippin said to the SnoBiggie yeti. “Where are you off to?” Little Grunt pointed to the small alicorn perched on his back. Interesting. Not a unicorn. An alicorn. The alicorn waggled their wings at Pippin. “Oh, you want to race? Well, I can’t right now. You see, I’m on some very important scout elf business, but if you come with me, I’ll explain on the way.” Way to stay on task, Pippin. This elf means business! They arrived at Hollerdon’s place and found him drawing in the snow with the end of his staff, as one does. Pippin noticed something small and furry next to Hollerdon. “Why, if it isn’t my good friend Zaspar!” Pippin said to the little bogie. “Pippin, Little Grunt, welcome!” Hollerdon said with excitement. “What brings you here?” Little Grunt blurted out, “A girl wrote a letter and wants to know how old Santa Claus is.” “Ah, yes, that age-old question,” Hollerdon said, rubbing his chin, as all the wise people seem to do. He turned to Pippin. “And I assume you’ve been tasked with finding the answer. Am I right?” Of course, wise Hollerdon is right. That’s exactly why we’re here. Pippin nodded: “Yes, exactly! From my research, I can absolutely confirm that Saint Nick is older than swashbuckling pirates and even older than knights and fire-breathing dragons, and… oh… my… goodness.” Pippin’s face filled with amazement. “What if Santa is older than dinosaurs?” What?! Santa Claus with Santa’s claws? Pippin’s imagination was swirling with thoughts of Santa Claus riding in a stone sleigh pulled by eight tiny T-Rexes! “What did he give all those cave people as presents?” Pippin wondered. “Rocks? Fire? No. No. Santa would never give fire. A wheel? Yes, a wheel.” “Well, I can tell you that Santa is not as old as the dinosaurs,” Hollerdon said with a chuckle. “He’s not even as old as me or my hat for that matter.” Okay, this guy then looks amazingly young for his age as well. Must be that whole freezing situation in the North Pole.

Suddenly, Pippin heard the clock tower chiming in the distance. “Oh no,” he gasped. “I’m not going to make it back in time to answer Sofi’s letter! It’s almost Christmas!” “Hey, Pippin,” said a familiar voice. “Want a ride?” Pippin cheered. “Of course I do!” What’s better than snowboarding like a boss? Hitching a ride on an alicorn on a Yeti! Woo! Well, yeehaw and jingle all the way! Pippin returned to the mail room, back to where the journey began, and grabbed his ink and quill, thinking back on everything he had learned. Pippin began to write his response to the little girl’s most curious question. Okay, here we go. We’re finally about to get our answer, and it is: “Dear Sofi, your question is tied to the very heart of Christmas magic. In my research, I found that imagining possibilities was as magical as discovering the real answer, sort of like the joy of wondering what gift you might receive before you even unwrap it. I’m proud to tell you that Santa is older than pirates, older than knights, and even older than fire-breathing dragons, but he’s not as old as dinosaurs, and he didn’t deliver stone wheels. That’s way more fun than telling you that Santa actually is probably most likely maybe 1,754’ish years old. Keep asking questions, Sofi, and I will, too. What we discover could be truly magical. Love, Pippin Snowdae, Mail Room Scout Elf.” “So, he’s 1,754 and a half?” “I told you he wasn’t a million!” But it’s far more interesting to imagine all the places Santa’s been and all the things he’s seen in his long and mysterious life. “Imagine what his birthday cake looks like, Red Bear!” “Green Bear, I bet it looks like a big bonfire! He must take like an hour to blow out 1,754 candles! Maybe he uses a leaf blower!” What can you imagine? Ho-Ho-aHOy!

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