Haha, it was only a couple of the back ones.

I was such a smart kid, I never believed in santa.

Good for you!

I suppose you voted for Ron Paul?

Santa would have shown up if you'd only remembered your towel.

I don't remember what age I was, but I was never let down, because I never really believed it. I never really believed in god, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy either. I'm very skeptical and I question most things, and I have even since I was a kid.

Besides, logically even if you find out the truth you are still getting gifts so it really is no difference. It is just who is giving you the gifts that changes in your mind.

You know... I don't think I've ever really believed in Santa. Sure, the thought was nice, but he didn't show up at my place. Perhaps because I helped putting the presents under the tree. And that might've been because out fireplace didn't really allow safe passage if you were a fat guy.

Am I the only one reading this thread and getting a little depressed by all the people rushing to point out how quickly they realised Santa wasn't real, or how they never really believed as a kid. What the hell? I can't remember exactly when I realised, when I was still pretty young, but even so, I was willing to believe it and maintain that belief for a while, because why not. At any rate, once I did find out I know I kept the pretence up for the benefit of my sister until she twigged herself a few years later.

See, the thing is Santa wasn't a tangible belief. You couldn't put your finger to it if you tried because he was this abstract figure that just committed a routine B&E on everyone's home on Christmas. You kind of have to grow up eventually and move into the real world where PEOPLE gift each other things, not some fat fuck pedophile who hides out in frozen tundra and lives with an army of midgets.

As it is, I grew up in a Catholic home and, on top of my already questioning the existence of an invisible man in the sky, my parents didn't really condone the whole Santa myth; probably because Santa was cutting in on Baby Jesus™'s action.

Eventually, my parents just started discouraging that we buy anyone outside our family gifts unless they were really close. This was cool with me because once the whole Santa thing was done away with and we were giving each other presents FROM ONE ANOTHER in our family, it became that much more meaningful. That's why I wear a 40 year old Citizen watch with more bumps and scratches than a Tijuana hooker and still have a 20-year old Targus camera that jams when it's about 30˚F outside; they were given (or passed on, depending on how you look at it) to me by my father and mother respectively, not a corporate mascot who fiddles kids at the mall when he's had too much eggnog.

That sort of logic is fine when you're a teenager or an adult, but a five year old doesn't care about all that. They're still able to believe in magic, fairy tales, etc., and don't view old men in musty jackets as potential child molesters. With all the heartland "War on Christmas" folks in this country, I can't believe this thread is representative of the number of children who never believed in Santa.

OK. Maybe it's because I didn't phrase it correctly, but that's not really where I was going with that. I know it's different for me because, despite all our fuck-ups and differences, our family was very close and it was important for my parents to keep us grounded in a certain sense of reality; at least as sensible as it could be considering they believed in "god". We never believed that Santa or, as is common to "believe" in Mexico, The Three Wise Men brought us our presents because it was never "taught" to us, I guess is what I'm saying.

As I grew older I grew more appreciative of this fact and, even though my parents and I grew apart as far as our religious and spiritual beliefs were concerned I was always thankful that they were able to keep me grounded in reality without being the total dick about it that I'M being right now.

I hope this makes sense.

Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever believen in any of those things, like the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. Perhaps the Verucca gnome, though.
I did like reading about Santa. i like the idea of a fat man in a sleigh fizzing around Earth throwing presents at kids. But believe in him? Never.

Speaking of which, it makes it difficult to believe in someone, when you don't even know where he lives. In Denmark, and perhaps a few other places, I dunno, he lives in Greenland. However all comics and cartoons tell children that he lives on the North Pole.
"Well kids... Those comics are mistaken!"

Santa Clause was a belief that was short lived. But I did believe in the Easter Bunny and tooth fairy for quite a while. It wasn't until I wrote a letter to the Easter Bunny and the reply was a drawing of the bunny. I realized quickly it was my mother's writing/drawing style and went upstairs and told her I think it was her that did it. She couldn't stop laughing.... That's when I stopped believing. The tooth fairy forgot my tooth for three days and by that point I realized she wasn't real either... It was a sad day I must say.

Amen brother. I forget how old I was exactly, but damn if my parents didn't get me and my sister hook line and sinker for a good while.

My favorite Christmas illusion was leaving out milk and cookies, and waking up to find a partial glass of milk and a few bits of cookie left over. My parents went out of their way to even use different wrapping paper from the gifts they gave to other family members the night before during our annual Christmas Eve party. They kept the illusion going, and damn if it wasn't air-tight. I started to figure it out when I noticed that Santa and my mom had the same handwriting, and that Santa started addressing my gifts to "my sweet boy."

Either Santa was a pederast or my mom was writing on the gifts, and since I didn't know what child rape was at the time, I figured out it was my mom. I thought it was great. Christmas, while I still love it, was always best when I was a naive child, and I'll be damned if my parents didn't handle the lie with the greatness. I'm glad my parents let my sister and I ease into the truth the way they did.