Not only did my parents never tell my that Santa was real, none of my parent’s friends (that I can remember) had ever told them that he was real, either. I’m not sure at what point I realized that kids believing in Santa was a thing that really happened. To me, it would have been like believing that Luke Skywalker was a real person.
I met a real-life Santa giving away gifts in our nursery class. That was enough for me.
They did. And, even aside from the years of holiday cheer, I’m grateful for it—growing up in a secular* household, it was ultimately a fascinating insight into a mindset of “faith.”
And a harmless one, as gods or demigods go. Santa is simple, unabashedly benevolent, and he delivered. Quite literally.
*“Apatheistic” might be more apt. I’d just say “heathen,” but the Norse Paganists are reclaiming the term these days. 
I live in a society where Santa makes house calls and hands over the presents to the recipients, so the main problem was trying to figure out which of the neighbours was behind the mask.
Yes, and it really enriched my Christmas. I can remember leaving out sherry and mince pies by the fireplace, which my father (presumably) would eat when I went to bed, as it was always gone by morning. It also worked in my parents favour in getting me to go to sleep, as apparently Father Christmas had to visit all the hospitals and children’s homes first so there was no point waiting up for him.
I did wonder why my parents didn’t buy me presents though, but apparently they had to pay Father Christmas.
The spell was broken when I was about 7/8 and my big brother, in typical big brother style, told me Father Christmas was dead so we wouldn’t be getting any presents. My parents broke the truth. I wasn’t upset.
They did. Apparently I loved it as a young child; the half-eaten carrots, mug & cookies the next morning were apparently very exciting. And who doesn’t love presents! I can’t remember feeling the wonder or the excitement though, so I consider it all “for the parents” even though they considered it “for the kids”. But that’s because I don’t remember much of my early childhood.
I do however remember two events in my childhood that let me know I couldn’t trust my parents 100% and was ‘on my own’ so to speak, and one of those was finding out EVERYONE but me knew Santa was fake. What can I say - I was a fairly intense child, who needed something to be sure of / secure of. I wouldn’t say I’m traumatised over it, but given I don’t remember the magic but do remember the betrayal/lie… well, the net effect was negative not positive. Not that I hold it against my parents at all, because who can know prior what is best for each child? My brother remembers the magic and feels positive about the whole Santa thing and is raising his kids with Santa belief so there you go
This. I do remember being taken to Midtown Plaza for the Santa thing, and we did a Thanksgiving weekend visit to NY for Brentanos, clothing at Bloomingdale and Macys, and toys at FAO Schwartz. Since I always was a party to any Christmas shopping, I didn’t ever remember believing in Santa, and I was never really told about the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy or any mythical avatar, and I don’t really miss them.
Yes, and it was AWESOME. We’d have a big-assed blowout opening all the family gifts on Christmas Eve, a job that would take 2-3 hours. Then we’d wake up the next morning, and start the process all over again, another 2-3 hours of gift opening.
So, hell yeah, was it enriched. 
As for my daughter, she’s 12 and still believes. This is possibly her last year, but we do the crumbs in the fireplace, half-eaten carrots on the roof, all that jazz. Good times.
Pretty much the same for me.
I knew my son didn’t believe when he wanted to leave a bottle of beer for Santa. Santa left a note thanking him but turning it down because he was driving.
No, though she didn’t tell me that he wasn’t real, either. I had some Christmas books regarding Santa and his modus operandi (and probably got some propaganda from preschool), and it didn’t seem to fit my own situation. I realized Santa couldn’t be real, as we lived in an apartment without a chimney for him to stop by, yet I still got presents. I double-checked with her that I was correct, and that was that.
Wish she would’ve told me that my new-found knowledge was dangerous; I later casually piped up that he wasn’t real to the toddler son of my babysitter (they had no chimney, either, so I clued him in), which was treated by the adults around as if I’d committed a huge felony.
Oh yeah my mom did Santa bigtime. She worked for Goldsmith’s and they had the annual breakfast with Santa after visiting The Enchanted Forest (set up with fuzzy cotton snow and many now-creepy looking animatronic toys and elves.) And we knew from June that Santa was watching us, keeping up his list. Santa always brought the best toys, while mom just gave us new pajamas and socks.
I don’t remember when I realized he wasn’t real. I think my brother may have told me, but you do NOT tell your parents you don’t believe anymore or it’s all over, so I continued to pretend until I was an adult, and my sweet mama always pretended too. It’s nothing but happy memories for me, and I’m doing pretty much the same with my girls.
No. My parents didn’t believe in lying to us. They did tell us not to spoil the secret for other kids, though.
I can’t say I feel deprived at all. Christmas was always plenty of fun.
No, because we were Jewish. They did try to impress on me that other people believe in Santa and not to contradict them. It sounded like a stupid story to me, and I didn’t fully accept that other people actually believed in Santa. When I was 5 I told my best friend “parents bring presents” and apparently caused a bit of a ruckus in their household. Oops.
Yes I was told to believe in Santa. I remember my kindergarten year looking out the bathroom window for Rudolf’s nose. My mom told me if I looked really hard I might see it! I swear I did too.
Then I wised up sometime by 2nd grade and it was a traumatic experience not when I figured it out, but when I revealed it to my family that I had figured it out. They were none to pleased.
I won’t be taking a stance either way about Santa. If my child (someday) asks me if Santa Claus is real, I’ll ask them what they think and why, and we’ll have a discussion.
My parents did the Santa thing, and at least when I and my brothers were young they played it seriously (e.g. gifts from Santa had a different wrapping paper and different handwriting on the tags than gifts from Mom and Dad). I never came right out and asked them whether Santa was real or not. But I do remember one year (I’m not sure what age) thinking that probably Santa Claus was just Mom and Dad, but not knowing for certain, and worrying that I’d have to get the issue settled for sure one way or the other before I had kids of my own. (So that means I didn’t have a moment of revelation or disillusionment; the realization came upon me gradually.)
Anyway, I’m glad my parents did Santa, and I think it enriched me, for reasons I’ve mentioned in earlier threads:
I remember I dressed up as Santa and visited my nieces on Christmas Eve and their faces lit up like nothing i’ve ever seen, it was amazing. On Christmas morning one year, my dad slipped out of the family room, put on a santa suit, went outside, peeked back in from outside and told everyone Merry Christmas and all of the kids ran to the door and we have a picture of them straining their necks to see Santa running through the snow. When Grandpa came back down the stairs, they couldn’t wait to tell them they saw Santa. Kids need that magic, it’s what keeps them kids. Adults are so cynical and negative and have lost that feeling of butterflies in their stomach because they are eager and that feeling of not being able to sleep because they are excited. Have you ever told a child something that he wants to hear, and saw the joy in his eyes and then saw the excitement, that shot of joy that just causes him to run in circles for a minute? Man, i’d love to have that for just a day at least. To be a kid again. Don’t take away what it is to be a kid. Don’t try to ground them too soon, the world will do that in plenty of time.
Yes, and it was great.
For my kids we told them that Santa brought gifts, and they didn’t show any signs of betrayal when they figured it out. Heck, my youngest (9) has apparently gone back to treating Santa as real this year - I guess last year’s “Mom & Dad really bought all this stuff” Christmas was a little disappointing to her.
Sherry? Is that a British tradition? I think milk & cookies are the standard here in the USA. Though one year after the kids went to bed I left the milk glass full and put an empty beer bottle next to it.
I don’t remember much from the days when I 100% believed in Santa, but recall being old enough to ask if Santa was real, and the answer I got from my parents was “Well, what do you think?”
Which I realize looks extremely annoying and frustrating in print, but in real life, was delivered in a way that was more of a pleasant invitation to think through some issues and continue the conversation. There were probably two years where I went back and forth on that for a while (I would guess around 4 - 5 years old).
I remember holding on to the reindeer longer … I really wanted to believe in the reindeer. They seemed much more magical and wondrous than an old guy in a suit.
As a family, we always kept Santa as part of the celebration, even when we kids were older … at least one indulgent gift is from “Santa,” we debate what are the best kind of cookies to have on hand for “Santa,” that sort of thing.
So overall, I am cool with how my parents dealt with Santa. We’re following the same path for my daughter, who is still pretty young.
Yep. I held onto my belief in Santa until I was about 11. They didn’t harp on Santa being real, but did the “Santa Claus is watching so be good” stuff.