My wife and I were discussing this last night while watching Charlie Brown. We both had older brothers (by 4 yrs) so we both learned that Santa = Parents at an early age.
My brother went so far as to actually show me the presents stash. I still didnt believe him at that point. Until Christmas morning I saw a present from “Santa” that had been in the stash. I was 6, and it was a sad day…
So, first, did your parents actually feed you the Santa line?
And if they did, how old, and how, did you find out the truth?
We were watching old family slides one night when my parents had weekend friends over, and I noticed that my dad had pictures of the tree with the presents under it, but that the cookies, sandwich and milk for Santa were still on the fireplace. I put 2 and 2 togther…
I was 6 or 7 and we made the familial exodus to K-Mart or Woolworth’s. I was wandering around the store (early 1970s) and walked in to the Boy’s section. There was Mom, frantically trying to hide toys under our coats. She looks up at me and barks, “Do YOU believe in Santa Claus?” Knowing better than to lie to my mother, I said “No - not really.” She replied, “Good. Now get over here and help me choose toys for your little brother.”
My parents made no particular effort to either instill the myth or to debunk it. I must have just picked it up through societal ambiance. However, I don’t remember ever believing it was true. I knew it was another make-believe thing, like my invisible friends (which I also knew were make-believe).
Like MLS, I don’t remember my parents ever going the extra mile to make me believe in Santa (in the interest of full disclosure, though, I’m the product of a mixed-faith marriage, and it’s hard to explain to a kid why Santa might bring Christmas presents, but the ones you got for Hanukkah were just from Mom and Dad). I was probably five or six when I came downstairs late on Christmas Eve (which is my birthday–too much cake that year and I felt sick) to find Dad cursing over the bike he was trying to put together for me.
My older brothers were more considerate. I remember arguing with one of them when I was 5 (I can easily pin point the exact christmas when it happened). He was trying to convince me that Santa did exist, but I knew better. I wrote a letter to Santa the year before, so I know I stopped believing in him between the ages of 4 1/2 and 5 1/2.
I can’t remember how I discovered the truth, but I know I was very pissed that my parents had lied to me.
I caught my mother sorting candy at the dinner table in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a major blow, though–I had thought it was the parents for a long time. I started helping her every year and took pride in the fact that I was putting one over on the sibs.
I don’t really remember when I stopped believing, but it was probably around the time when my parents packed up all the kids and drove the 6 hours to my Aunt and Uncle’s house for Christmas. Christmas morning came and my brothers and cousins all had their Santa presents and all I had was a Mother picking me up and saying that Santa must have delivered it to our house instead. Yup my parents forgot my My Little Pony Corral at home :eek: . Not a happy morning. That kinda tipped me off.
Other years my parents went to the trouble of climbing on he roof to make “reindeer prints” and other stuff like that.
I never believed in Santa, because the tradition in our family was always to leave the presents under the tree for most of December, and then open them on a big family gathering on Christmas Eve. I don’t think I ever understood what Santa’s role was supposed to be on Christmas, until I found out how other families did it.
Once, though, when I was about nine, on Christmas morning (when all our gifts had already been opened), my parents gave me a gift I really wanted and said it was from Santa. They have a photo of nine-year-old me with a “What the hell are you trying to pull here?” expression.
I was 9 and saw my mother’s little notebook in her purse with the list. She normally wrote it in shorthand, but was a little careless that year and wrote a couple of them in longhand, so I asked her about it and she caved. Since my brother was only 5 at the time, she asked me to keep the secret. So on Christmas morning, every time I opened a gift, I whispered, “Thanks, mom”.
Santa or not, that is just cruel! I hated waiting for my father’s coffee to finish brewing before we could open gifts, much less waiting the whole month.
…that’s because everyone knows that the presents under the tree are from relatives and stuff.
It’s the stockings that are from Santa.
Duh. :rolleyes: It’s not rocket science, folks!*
Honestly, some of you talk like there was no fat man in a red suit or something!
I believed waaaaay too long (like age 10)-but kept quiet because I was afraid of being teased (story of my life).
I did “perpetuate” the myth with my kids–I think there is way too much pragmatism and lack of magic in the world as it is. Why not have something fun and giving and loving? (I never used Santa as a threat to ensure good behavior though, either).
*kidding.
I know I didn’t when I was 6, in first grade, because I specifically remember teasing a girl in the class that my family was going to leave a fire going in the fireplace to burn Santa Claus.
I apologize, Susan.
Anyway, in a metaphorical way, I believe in Santa Claus more now than I did as a kid. Don’t tell me there’s no Santa; I am Santa Claus, bitches! 2 attitude snaps
You’re all lying. Lying, lying naughty people. I don’t live with my parents any more, I live with my husband. And I *still * get presents from Santa. Ergo Santa is real and you’re all telling lies and I’m not listening to you!
In all seriousness, my parents never made the effort to “instill” a belief in Santa, so I never really believed. Yea, I saw it on TV, but somehow I was able to discern that TV was not reality from a very young age. Yea, yea, not that you could tell from any of my posts …
I held out until I was 10. In spite of all of the evidence to the contrary, I wanted to believe . Then one Christmas I heard my aunt talking about stocking stuffers and finally had to resign myself to the fact that there isn’t any Santa after all.
