My parents got very annoyed with me when I realized anything coming down our chimney would get very crispy. That, plus I could understand what they spelled out in front of me. (In retrospect, I have no idea how they put up with me.) Finally just gave up and told me not to tell my little brother when I was about 4.
Not that it mattered because he spied on “Santa” a few years later and caught them in the act. This doesn’t stop them from labeling gifts from “Santa”, despite the fact that we are now 20 and 18 years old.
In an unrelated note, my roommate and I just put up our very first Christmas tree in the apartment. It makes me feel like such an adult.
I don’t remember any big moment where I was told Santa didn’t exist, or it suddenly dawned on me. I think the suspicions just kind of built up. One day my parents did ask me if I knew Santa wasn’t real. But I’d already worked it out by that point.
I had a friend who still believed in Santa at 13. People were making fun of her, so I tried to tell her the truth. But she wouldn’t believe me.
I can’t ever recall believing. My Mom was pretty big on catching all the classic Christmas specials coming on, like The Year Without a Santa Claus and what not. She also hid the presents until the night before Xmas. I was Santa’s helper by 9 or 10 though. I’m pretty much the same about the Xmas specials, my kids have never asked, however hand me a list faithfully a couple weeks before Thanksgiving.
Well, my parents always told us that if we didn’t believe, we wouldn’t receive, so I still believe
With our children, they’ve seen Mr. Adoptamom dress as Santa each year and just assumed he was one of Santa’s helpers, since Santa couldn’t be all places at all times. They dressed as elves and helped their dad, Santa, give presents out at the homeless shelters, battered women’s shelters, etc.
I just took a break from posting and asked my children and their friends (who just gobbled down 4 large Domino’s Pizza’s!) how old they were when they discovered the truth. Amazingly, my 12 year old daughter said she was 8 and I actually blew Santa’s cover by assuming she knew already :eek: . The other three (boys) answered 7, 8 and 9 years old. None of them seem particularly troubled by their parents deceit but I guess we won’t know for sure until they all sue us for emotionally scarring them once they turn 21
I’m not sure how old I was, probably pre school, but I remember sitting on the swing at the bottom of our garden surrounded by a gang of horrible boys – my big brother and his friends (about five years older than me). They were shouting “Say Father Christmas doesn’t exist!” :eek: I wouldn’t give the little
b-------ds the satisfaction but I sort of knew it had to be true. I’m not sure whether it was that or the whiping me with curtain wire incident but they got banned from coming round soon after.
I was too smart for my own good, and I also refused to go to bed early, ever. Combine a junior-skeptic attitude with a kid who regularly stays up till 11pm, and you get a kid who catches parents wrapping presents at night and comes to the conlcusion that that Santa guy isn’t really sneaking in with presents on Christmas eve.
But the whole family still enjoys the Santa idea, even if we all know he’s not real. We still label presents “from Santa” when we want to keep the giver’s identity secret.
I can’t ever remember believing in him either. The earliest memories that I have relating to the whole Christmas present deal come from age six, I believe, and it was very clear to meby that time that it was my parents who would judge my behavior and deliver gifts accordingly, not any overweight, red-suited elf.
One year I got a note from Santa. A few months later, my dad and I were drawing on a paper placemat at a restaurant and he wrote something in the same goofy handwriting as Santa. I was crushed.
The sad part? I was nine. I was a pretty sheltered only child. I’m pretty embarassed that it took me until age nine to figure it out, but there it is.
I asked my parents why they just didn’t tell me and they said I had so much fun believing in Santa that they couldn’t do it.
I never really believed in Santa. It was a sort of tongue-in-cheek, , reference. the non-belief was solidified when I was 7 or 8, when I noticed Santa’s handwriting was exactly the same as Zamboni Mom’s. I pointed it out to Mom by saying "Hey mom, your writing looks 'zactly (that was probably the pronunciation I used) like Santa’s. I knew, but I said it in such a way to keep the littler ones from guessing.
I found out around age 9 when Mom asked me if I believed. I said “no” just to test her, and she accepted it.
As for my kids…one day I was taking them to school and we were listening to an audiobook (as is our wont). It was one of the Superfudge books by Judy Blume. There is a scene in the book where Fudge tells his older brother Peter how he found out about Santa. I tried not to be too obvious as I grabbed for the volume control, and no one said anything. A day or so later, the oldest one came to me in tears asking why I had lied to her. She dried up pretty quick when she realized she was in on a grownup secret and her little brother still doesn’t know. (Either he wasn’t listening to the story or he decided it was in his best interest to ignore it.)
I don’t know what else to say, so I won’t…I’ll just have you in my thoughts.
, reference. the non-belief was solidified when I was 7 or 8, when I noticed Santa’s handwriting was exactly the same as Zamboni Mom’s. I pointed it out to Mom by saying "Hey mom, your writing looks 'zactly (that was probably the pronunciation I used) like Santa’s. I knew, but I said it in such a way to keep the littler ones from guessing.