At what age did you STOP believing in Santa?

[Bostondevil]

OK, 1) I still believe in Santa but

2) the summer between second and third grade, my younger brother and I confronted our mother. She had decided that she wouldn't tell us but she wouldn't lie if we asked her directly so, when we asked if she was really Santa, she told us yes. I still feel bad that I got one more Christmas than my brother. He's forgiven me, especially since asking Mom was his idea. I'm glad we did it far away from Christmas time.

Miles! Shame on you! The Easter Bunny, OK, I'm not an Easter Bunny pusher myself, but Santa? Here's the thing. Kids get it about Santa Claus because, for the most part, when you tell them not to ruin it for other kids, they don't tell! Yes, a few brats do, but mostly they don't tell. Two of my sons still believe (Ok, the 9 year old maybe doesn't but he hasn't admitted it yet) and the older two go out of their way to keep it fun for the youngest. It's fun to believe in Santa Claus. Don't deprive your kids of that!

Shame? Ouch.

Was I too harsh? If it comes to it, I'll have a talk with Kelly. ;)

[Lavabe]

OK, 1) I still believe in Santa but

2) the summer between second and third grade, my younger brother and I confronted our mother. She had decided that she wouldn't tell us but she wouldn't lie if we asked her directly so, when we asked if she was really Santa, she told us yes. I still feel bad that I got one more Christmas than my brother. He's forgiven me, especially since asking Mom was his idea. I'm glad we did it far away from Christmas time.

Miles! Shame on you! The Easter Bunny, OK, I'm not an Easter Bunny pusher myself, but Santa? Here's the thing. Kids get it about Santa Claus because, for the most part, when you tell them not to ruin it for other kids, they don't tell! Yes, a few brats do, but mostly they don't tell. Two of my sons still believe (Ok, the 9 year old maybe doesn't but he hasn't admitted it yet) and the older two go out of their way to keep it fun for the youngest. It's fun to believe in Santa Claus. Don't deprive your kids of that!

Shame? Ouch.

Was I too harsh? If it comes to it, I'll have a talk with Kelly. ;)

In the spirit of Roy, I'm getting in touch with the refs. BD needs to be ejected from the arena for heckling Miles. ;)

[Miles]

Shame? Ouch.

Was I too harsh? If it comes to it, I'll have a talk with Kelly. ;)

In the spirit of Roy, I'm getting in touch with the refs. BD needs to be ejected from the arena for heckling Miles. ;)

Maybe it wasn't BD. Maybe it was someone else, obviously drunk and posting on her account.

[Miles]

OK, 1) I still believe in Santa but

2) the summer between second and third grade, my younger brother and I confronted our mother. She had decided that she wouldn't tell us but she wouldn't lie if we asked her directly so, when we asked if she was really Santa, she told us yes. I still feel bad that I got one more Christmas than my brother. He's forgiven me, especially since asking Mom was his idea. I'm glad we did it far away from Christmas time.

Miles! Shame on you! The Easter Bunny, OK, I'm not an Easter Bunny pusher myself, but Santa? Here's the thing. Kids get it about Santa Claus because, for the most part, when you tell them not to ruin it for other kids, they don't tell! Yes, a few brats do, but mostly they don't tell. Two of my sons still believe (Ok, the 9 year old maybe doesn't but he hasn't admitted it yet) and the older two go out of their way to keep it fun for the youngest. It's fun to believe in Santa Claus. Don't deprive your kids of that!

Shame? Ouch.

Was I too harsh? If it comes to it, I'll have a talk with Kelly. ;)

Nah, you weren't too harsh. I'm not hardcore about this, and I really haven't given it much thought but I just think that if my kids asked me who Santa was, I'd tell them what he represents but not try to sell him as an actual person. Or maybe I'm over thinking the whole thing and should just get my ass off my shoulders. Philosophically, I think it sucks to lie to kids no matter what the context. Practically, Santa never hurt anybody... I think.

[Ima Facultiwyfe]

No matter WHO was in or out of the story, DinK .....it's a super one!

I think I really, deep down inside, had to face it when on Christmas Eve I looked into the eyes of Santa who was passing out candy to us kids at church after our pageant and saw that they were very kind,loving...but very familiar eyes. Holding my mother's hand on the chilly night heading for the car, I remember saying quietly to her, "That wasn't Daddy."

Love, Ima

[Very Duke Blue]

No matter WHO was in or out of the story, DinK .....it's a super one!

I think I really, deep down inside, had to face it when on Christmas Eve I looked into the eyes of Santa who was passing out candy to us kids at church after our pageant and saw that they were very kind,loving...but very familiar eyes. Holding my mother's hand on the chilly night heading for the car, I remember saying quietly to her, "That wasn't Daddy."

Love, Ima

ima, you have the best stories. love, vdb

[ArkieDukie]

Adventure With Grandma

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and wrote on the package, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.

Every little kindness you do during this holiday season is showing Santa to someone. Have a very Merry Christmas.

And a Happy Chanukah!

What an amazing story! It made me cry. You were truly blessed to have had such a wonderful Grandma. Lots more people could stand to have an experience like the one she gave you. You learned about the true spirit of Santa Claus at a very early age.

[ArkieDukie]

Just so you know - I'm not the person in the story - either the grandma or the child. The story was just too good not to share. Kind of a Virginia/Santa story and a reminder of what we should be celebrating.

Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone.

I wondered about that! Still a great story, regardless.

[ArkieDukie]

My family has a couple of good stories about my siblings and I locating (or attempting to locate) hidden Christmas presents. The first time it happened, my siblings and I were playing in the attic when a panel in the wall fell down, revealing our hidden Christmas presents. We really weren't looking for them (at least that time), we just got lucky. My parents still to this day don't believe that we were just horsing around and found them. The second time, my uncle was arriving while we were at church, and we knew that he had our presents (Mom had started having him keep them due to our skill at locating hidden items). We came back home from church, and sure enough, his van was there. My brothers and I hopped out of the car and promptly started searching in the usual hiding places, plus a couple of others that we had thought of. We hit the well house, the milk barn, the chicken house, the attic, under my parents' bed. Never found them. Where were they? Sitting on top of my parents' bed! Funny follow-up: my uncle suggested hiding them in the well house. My dad responded, "That's the first place they'll look." He was right!

[DukieInKansas]

I don't remember ever looking for the presents. My clearest memories of Christmas as a child were waiting for everyone to wake up on Christmas morning. Once all awoke, on their own with no nudges from siblings, Mom and Dad would go downstairs, make coffee, and then let us come down. Even better, my brother Dave would never tell on me when I would sneak in and wake him up. He could sleep until noon and who could wait that long.