Father Christmas, or someone like him, how old were you when you discovered he doesn’t exist?
I was four, almost five, as my birthday is 12/31. We were leaving for church at 6:30 PM, and it’s already dark. Mom “forgot” something and had to go back in the house for a minute. Through a crack in the curtains I could see her put away the milk and Oreos we’d set out for the big guy. So I knew then there was no Santa, and probably no Easter Bunny either.
So, let us know, and tell us your stories of disillusionment.
At some point in my childhood, my father dressed up as Santa, carrying a sack full of toys. We weren’t fooled for a minute; it was obvious who it really was. So we laughed at him. My father had no control over his temper, and spent the next few hours stomping through the house, yelling and cursing and throwing things. “God damn it, you never appreciate what I do for you. Everything is always gimme, gimme, gimme.” That’s the way he was.
If I hadn’t believed in Santa Claus, by then, that would have done it for me.
I was in kindergarten, so five going on six, and laboring over my letter to Santa when my brother, using he Worldly Wise Elder Brother voice that annoyed the piss out of me even then, informed me there was no such person. I promptly went to Mom and tattled on him for lying. I didn’t actually accept that he wasn’t full of shit (on this one point, at least) for another year or two.
I was an awfully rational tyke. I knew very early on, but played along because of my younger brother and sister. I remember wondering, “Why not play along, cause, presents?”
I can’t remember how old I was, but I played along for at least a couple more years because it meant more presents. Pretty early in elementary school though.
At our home in Arkansas, before we moved to Texas, we had no fireplace, and my father would set up a cardboard fireplace and chimney. I recall being three or four years old and asking Dad how Santa could get through from the roof. I was actually pissed off royally that Dad would not cut a hole in the ceiling.
Don’t remember exactly but it had to be no earlier than age 6, because I remember that Christmas being 100% convinced I heard Santa and the reindeer on the roof. I was so thrilled!!!
Don’t recall ever believing in magical creatures like Santa (or god, for that matter). Not for lack of imagination or wanting to think things like that were possible. Just not something that ever seemed credible to me. On the other hand, the holidays were a festive and special time to me as far back as I can recall and I enjoyed the stories and traditions, even if I didn’t really ever “believe”.
I have no recollection of when I stopped believing in Santa Claus.
But later in life, I realised my dad was the real Santa Claus. I don’t mean that I realised that he was the one giving me presents. I mean that he was that generous and was the embodiment of the Spirit of Christmas.
In our house, the rule is that anyone who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus no longer receives gifts from him.
When I was a child, my parents were involved with a children’s charity that put on a ‘Christmas House’ every December; as far back as I can remember I knew about “Santa’s helpers”.
I was likely 7, and I likely learned about it at school. I’m the oldest of five and we’re all close in ages - 6 years between me and the youngest - so I’m pretty sure I started to tell my sister and brothers about it before my parents shushed me and I realized it’s supposed to be a secret. So the siblings got the inkling of the truth from me.
Probably at age 4 when I noticed we didn’t have a chimney so how did he get in and when Mommy said “We leave the door open” I hollered “What about burglar?”
I honestly never “discovered he doesn’t exist,” in the sense that you’re talking about. It was more of a gradual realization. I do distinctly remember a time (not sure what age) when I thought Santa was probably just Mom and Dad, but I was a bit worried about needing to find out for sure some time before I had kids of my own.
I think I was about 7. I found a giant chocolate letter “H” hidden in a kitchen cupboard that I knew was going to be a Christmas gift for me. It ended up in my stocking on Christmas morning. I realized then that my parents had been stuffing my stocking for years under the ruse of Santa Claus.
A bit surprised (based on older threads on this) that you put the ceiling at 8. Those older threads, and personal experience, have indicated that some kids only learn/figure it out when they are 12 or 13 or so. That was the case with my nephew-and believe me he was pissed.
Mine was a purely logical deduction. Then as now I was a big map/globe hound-my dad used to tell me about all of the ports of call that he visited as Merchant Mariner at the end of WWII. So I am idly examining the globe one night in December (age 6), and I chance to peer at the North Pole, when it hit me-no land! No way for a castle to exist there without sinking through the ice-ergo, no Santa.
I recall rushing downstairs to share all of that with my shocked parents. But I happily kept up the charade for a number of years for the sake of my baby sister (2 at the time).
Santa Claus was barely believable to me at age 4, but flying reindeer were just impossible. I remember sitting in the car asking my father how reindeer could possibly fly.
I was quite young when I figured it out. Maybe 4 or 5. Except I’m not quite sure what I figured out. I realised it wasn’t real, but for some reason, I thought my parents still believed it all, so I didn’t say anything, so as not to spoil it for them.
Weirdly, I did not connect the dots enough to wonder where the heck the presents could be coming from.