I was in third grade when I stopped believing. A girl in my class told me. I didn't tell my parents, though, because I was afraid that we wouldn't have Christmas presents anymore if I did. I would still write letters to Santa every night and get "excited" to read his reply in the morning (from my dad). I would still leave out cookies, milk, and carrots on Christmas Eve. When I was in sixth grade, we went to my grandparents' house in Florida for two weeks (the week of and after Thanksgiving). I was writing my Christmas list and it said "To Santa" on the top of the page. My grandma said "you know, there's no such thing as Santa..." and I pretended to be crushed. She felt so bad afterward, because she thought that she ruined my magical Christmas beliefs. My grandpa was mad at her for telling me. My parents knew that I didn't believe (I was never a very good liar) and felt bad for not saying anything to me sooner (hello... 3 years of us all pretending together! But they thought that I was in the inbetween stage where I still want to believe but I don't think it's logical)... so there we were, all feeling bad/mad, and my sister asked if we could put up my grandparents' Christmas tree. As soon as the decorations came out of the box, we all felt better. Christmas is wonderful, Santa or no Santa.
i was 5. one of the other kindergartners who considered herself quite sophisticated scoffed at me when i mentioned santa, and said "santa claus isn't real, you baby." i burst into tears and spilled the whole story to my mom when she came to pick me up at school. no one was more devastated than my mother to hear this news, and i think that she called the teacher to report this bad blabber-mouth girl who ruined christmas for her baby.
my mother is also quite good at tricking small children, though, so she talked me back into it by saying "do you really think dad and i have that much time and money to buy you all of those presents?," but it was never the same really. i have two younger brothers also, so she made me promise that i would keep it going for them and never tell them.
we still put out cookies and beer for santa (my grandad's contribution to our christmas eve traditions) and we still get packages marked "from santa." my mom is the most christmas-obsessed person i have ever met.
I never believed in Santa. For some reason my sister was terrified of men with beards, so she'd scream bloody murder at the thought of Santa. My parents never even tried to convince us that he was real.
I did believe in the tooth fairy up until I lost my first tooth when I caught my Dad sneaking into my room to leave a pack of gum under my pillow.
hee--yeah, that's how he sold us on the idea. my grandad was really silly, and he told me and my brother that santa got tired of drinking milk at all the other houses, so we should give him something different. my mom told us years later that my grandad was the one who would always drink that beer and nibble halfway on the cookies so we would know santa had liked the snacks we left. he would also sometimes write us a note from santa in santa's special handwriting (which is very very squiggly, if you have never seen it) thanking us and wishing us a merry christmas.
he also used to help us fill up big buckets of water and make a plate of raw carrots to leave on the back porch for the reindeer, because they get hungry and thirsty, too. ahh, i love the old christmas memories.
laken1 wrote:
bumblebee wrote: we still put out cookies and beer for santa (my grandad's contribution to our christmas eve traditions) that's hysterical! I bet he's happy when he gets to your house!
I think I was about 7. I know I was one of the last of my friends to stop believing. One year, everyone was saying there was no Santa Claus and telling stories of how they caught their parents. So, I went home and proceeded to ask my mom about 50 times in a row, "Is there really a Santa?" until she finally gave in and told me no.