When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?

Vito

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For me, it was December 1970. My mom took me and my two younger brothers to a "Breakfast with Santa" event at a local coffee shop. While eating our scrambled eggs & toast, Santa Claus himself came to our booth for a brief visit. He shook our hands, asked each of us "What do you want for Christmas, little man?", then joined us for a group photo. He seemed to be the real Santa -- red suit, white beard and mustache, and a belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly. He also wore black horn-rimmed eyeglasses with big freekin' Coke-bottle lenses.

Before that day I had already started to question the existence of Santa Claus, mostly because my friend Ricky always told me that the whole Santa thing was "a bunch of baloney". Doubts...I had such doubts! And "Breakfast with Santa" definitely pushed me over the edge, all because of those eyeglasses. Santa Claus might wear sunglasses, especially Ray-Ban Wayfarers or maybe some really cool mirrored aviators. But he definitely would not wear a pair of black horn-rims with big freekin' Coke-bottle lenses.
 

Devil Ledbetter

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When I was six, we drove from our home in California to visit relatives in Michigan. It took us days to drive that far, and I had a lot of time to think about how impossibly long it would take if we stopped at every single house. After that trip, "magic" was no longer a plausible explanation for Santa's doings.
 

StoryG27

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I was 5.
Had my suspicions. Did an experiment.
Asked "Santa" for one thing. Told my mom I asked for something else.
Christmas morning, I got what I told my mom I wanted, not the awesome Santa with the real beard. That settled it for me.
 

brainstorm77

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My mother and father got plastered on Christmas Eve and forgot to put gifts under the tree.
Christmas was never a good thing at my house growing up.
 

Vito

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I was 5.
Had my suspicions. Did an experiment.
Asked "Santa" for one thing. Told my mom I asked for something else.
Christmas morning, I got what I told my mom I wanted, not the awesome Santa with the real beard. That settled it for me.

You were a totally evil child! :scared:
 

Vito

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When I was six, we drove from our home in California to visit relatives in Michigan. It took us days to drive that far, and I had a lot of time to think about how impossibly long it would take if we stopped at every single house. After that trip, "magic" was no longer a plausible explanation for Santa's doings.
Smart kid! :Thumbs:
 

Caitlin Black

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You know, the weird part isn't whether I believed in Santa or not - it was the fact that I believed my parents when they told me Santa brought me presents, and they used to take me to sit on Santa's lap at Christmas (which always made me cry - I didn't like physical contact as a child, and to some extent still don't, at least not with strangers). BUT I never put two and two together and thought, "That guy whose lap I sat on brings me presents."

I can't have been too big a believer, then. I never physicalised my belief (and I bet you didn't know physicalised was a word!) - it was just this abstract person I'd never met who was supposed to bring me stuff.

Then at about 7 or 8 I guess, my older brother and sister told me Santa wasn't real. I just shrugged and said, "Yeah, probably," or something similar. Then they showed me where my parents kept the presents before Christmas, and that was it for me.
 

Vito

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Then they showed me where my parents kept the presents before Christmas, and that was it for me.

For me, finding that "secret hiding place" was much more fun and much more exciting than believing in Santa Claus ever was!
 

StoryG27

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I also remember being upset, not that Santa wasn't real, but that my parents had been lying to me. And such a childish lie too... I lost respect for them that day.
When I told my kids, I told them the reason we play Santa, and about the Nicholas I believe he was based on (a rich generous man who often gave children gifts) and that it was about giving, it was about the spirit of giving anonymously and not giving because you'll get credit for it, and that's the spirit parents try to keep alive for their kids, and that's why there is the image of Santa Clause. Though I never told my kids he did exist. When they were little and would ask, I'd just ask what they thought, they'd tell me, and I'd say, that's interesting. That worked for a long time.
Say what? :e2cry:
Nothing, sweetie.
You got sit by Shadow Ferret and Blue Feline.
 

milly

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I swear, I think I was maybe 12...yes, I know...sad...but my brother was younger and my parents were VERY convincing...and I really *wanted* to believe...so I did :)
 

Vito

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I swear, I think I was maybe 12...yes, I know...sad...but my brother was younger and my parents were VERY convincing...and I really *wanted* to believe...so I did :)
Late bloomer! :tongue
 

Devil Ledbetter

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I swear, I think I was maybe 12...yes, I know...sad...but my brother was younger and my parents were VERY convincing...and I really *wanted* to believe...so I did :)
My dad had to sit one of my older sisters down when she was 15 and tell her. She always was the gullible one. They were worried she'd grow up, have kids of her own and wait for Santa to bring the presents.
 

milly

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My dad had to sit one of my older sisters down when she was 15 and tell her. She always was the gullible one. They were worried she'd grow up, have kids of her own and wait for Santa to bring the presents.


LMAO

well, I don't feel so bad then...well, still bad just not SOOOO bad...

:)
 

BardSkye

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I refuse to stop believing in Santa Claus and magic in general. I want magic in my life.
 

backslashbaby

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When I was six, we drove from our home in California to visit relatives in Michigan. It took us days to drive that far, and I had a lot of time to think about how impossibly long it would take if we stopped at every single house. After that trip, "magic" was no longer a plausible explanation for Santa's doings.

Wait, I figured this out as a kid. It had something to do with the moon following you everywhere you drove. If you could drive from my grandmother's all the way back home and the moon didn't move an inch the whole way, that's how Santa did it. He was in all the places at the same time same as the moon. He does it at night same as the moon, see?

That's not really him eating the cookies, though. Nobody could eat that many bites of cookie in one night. The parents do that part.


I didn't figure it out until Mom asked me if I still believed in him. Still? Ah, well that was it, then.