When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?

In My Humble Opinion
41

You’d think at 42 there’d be no way santa-related revelations could give you a kick to the yarbles, but that happened this past weekend (out of season or not, good timing JRyan). We took the Dudeling to my folks house to go see the Thomas the Train extravaganza (actual, working steam engines that look like Thomas) and raid the attic for childhood toys. Naturally Santa came up at some point, including talk of what to tell the Dudeling, how my brilliant nephew is probably stringing his parents along to milk the presents, etc. My reaction came up too.

I was 5, and had earlier in the year seen Santa Clause Concurs the Martians.If you don’t know it, it’s a cheesy (yet awesome to five-year-olds) movie where, among other things, Santa’s workshop is replaced by some push-button contraption. I knew it was a movie with a pretend Santa, but in a blend of understanding of reality/fiction I couldn’t wait to write to the real Santa to tell him that if he got one of those machines, he could come every day, not just Christmas eve! What a plan!

Then one day my folks called me into their room and broke the news. There. Was. No. Santa. My reaction was a five-year-old’s moment of clarity; I responded with “I guess there’s no tooth fairy either.” :frowning: “That’s right too, and now you’ll only get presents on Chunnukka from now on.” (We grew up as fairly secular Jews, and the Santa thing was a bit of an assimilation/concession to the culture we were in). I begged and pleaded to have one last Christmas telling them how I’ve been waiting to write to Santa and please please * please *let me write to Santa!!! So they gave in and we did the whole milk, cookies, lettuce and letter thing; my last taste of pure, unadulterated, Santa magic.

I wrote to Santa telling him all about my brilliant idea (in a much detail as a five-year-old could muster). Knowing there was no Santa didn’t make a difference—a child’s imagination and ability to believe six jillion impossible things works flawlessly. “Now you can come every day!” I wrote. He replied (Santa always answered our letters), “you know, I actually am with you every day!” Okay, at five, I was a bit let down, because I never got my letter from Santa … but in time it grew to be one of my most treasured holiday-themed memories.

Oh, the kick in the nuts: So I’m telling my folks this story (don’t think it’d ever came up before) and they haul off and give me an unexpected place-kicker. All these years I thought we were too poor to have two holidays. Okay, maybe that helped the decision along, but it turns out that my older brother found out on his own. And since * he *found out, some sense of demented and warped fairness meant that I needed to be told too… so I got ripped off of three extra years of believing in Santa!

AIIIEEEEEE! :eek:

42

Very interesting!It’s good to see so much activity up here.Keep 'em coming everyone!

43

It seems like this thread has run out of steam.Does anyone have some coal that I can shovel in to get it going again?

44

It was the Christmas just before I was five years old. My b-day is New Year’s Eve.

At about 6:30PM on Christmas Eve we all got into the car to go to the children’s program at church. In the Northern Hemisphere, in winter, it’s dark by that time. Mom “forgot” something and had to run back inside for a minute. There was a crack in the curtains so I could see her put away the milk and cookies we’d left for Santa. He’d come while we were at church, see.

So I knew. But I didn’t say anything. I also figured the Easter Bunny was not real either, but if I spoke up and said something about THAT I thought I might get less chocolate or something.

What I don’t remember is three years later. My mother wasn’t sure if I still believed, so she broke the news to me, and she tells me my response was “Oh, I know THAT!”

45

I was born in 1961- by 1968, I had pretty much decided Santa wasn’t real… but that year, he appeared in person at our house on Christmas Eve, so I was forced to conclude he must be real after all.

A few months later, I mentioned Santa in the presence of my grandmother, who got annoyed at me and snapped, “You’re too old to believe in Sanata Claus. That wasn’t Santa- it was your uncle.”

Naturally, I went and blabbed that to my younger brothers. That got me in hot water with my parents, who were furious at me for ruining everything for the littler guys.

That following Christmas, in 1969, Santa showed up at our house again… where my uncle was already waiting with us. My brothers got to say, “See? It WASN’T our uncle, it was really Santa.”

Later, I whispered to my Dad, “I won’t tell them, but who is that really?” My Dad told me it was an old friend of the family. And I clammed up, as I’d promised.

46

[QUOTE=Baker;15056721
What I don’t remember is three years later. My mother wasn’t sure if I still believed, so she broke the news to me, and she tells me my response was “Oh, I know THAT!”[/QUOTE]

That’s pretty funny.She must have been shocked when she heard you say that,right?

47

glad to see i’m not the only one that got that reply.

48
49

I never believed in Santa (being Jewish and all) but my parents were verrrrry careful to make sure to explain “this is what other people believe and its not nice to argue.” They didn’t want me to be That Jewish Kid who Ruined Everything.

However, their efforts were in vain because even at five I didn’t think my Christmas-celebrating friends actually believed (except like in a “santa is in all of us” way). It’s such a silly story!!! I mean, it’s totally ridiculous! Anywhooo, apparently I broke the news to my best friend, an event I don’t even remember but is recalled as a familial catastrophe in their house. Her parents could not lie when questioned directly and that was that.

50

I think I was about 8 yrs old. I had much older siblings that worked hard to make Christmas exciting for me and it was!

However, I had this hateful little neighbor girl that was one year older than me. She loved to cause trouble in any way she could. I still remember exactly where I was when she gleefully told me and my friend Karen that Santa wasn’t real… Her older brothers weren’t as sweet as mine were and had recently ruined it for her so she decided to do the same for us. Not really sure why we immediately believed her but we did. Maybe at that age, deep down we were already having doubts.

That was just one of the many nasty things she did to us over the next few years. In retrospect, she taught me a lot of life’s lessons early on. We moved away from that neighborhood when I was 13.

51

I don’t think I ever believed (I’m Jewish).

My sister and I were talking about my stepdaughter, the Thanksgiving before her first Christmas knowing (if that makes sense) and we agreed that it was strange to think that kids literally believed in Santa, since neither of us ever had, and our parents never suggested we ought to.

52

I never believed in Santa Claus. My parents were Pentecostal Christians and did not encourage such beliefs; I always knew my presents came from them. Unfortunately for my kindergarten classmates, Mom & Dad did not inculcate the virtue of “tact” in five-year-old Skald, and thus I told everybody in class that no, there was no jolly old elf. Caused some tears. :frowning:

53

How dare you say that! He died to save you