The Truth About Santa
When did you find out the truth about Santa? Do you remember where you were and how you felt? Were you the older sibling who had to keep pretending you believed in Santa while you were around your younger brothers and sisters? Or were you the younger sibling, thinking everyone else was buying into the Santa story too?
I remember a few things about the day I found out. I was in kindergarten or first grade so I was probably age 6 or 7. I remember going through a few of the stages of grief fairly quickly.
Two of my girlfriends were sisters and very close in age. One day when we were playing they mentioned in passing that Santa wasn’t real. That it was all a lie. That he was fact, their parents.
I went to anger immediately. “WHAT? Who told you that?” I asked accusingly.
“Our Mom,” they both replied. They had a sound source. Denial instantly set in.
“Well, that’s not true. I’m going home to ask my Mom,” I said stubbornly and then peddled away on my bike or big wheel. I don’t remember which was my transportation of choice that day but I hope it was my big wheel. The visual image of a blonde haired girl in pig tails tearing through the neighborhood on a pink strawberry shortcake big wheel to confront her parents about Santa puts a smile on my face.
My memory is a bit fuzzy but I remember a confrontation. I sat my parents down on the couch and paced in front of them demanding answers. Immediately they fessed up to the fact that no, Santa was not real and yes, they had been placing those presents under the tree signed from Santa each Christmas.
A vision of my Mom’s handwriting flashed before my eyes. Santa’s handwriting looked just like hers. How had I not noticed that before?
I stopped walking, stood up straight, and looked both of them in the eyes.
“Wait, there’s no tooth fairy either, is there?” I asked, my young brain processing this new truth as quickly as it could. With that question I was coasting through the bargaining stage of grief. My future hung on their answer.
I remember them uttering a humble “no” and in that moment I was ushered into the second stage of my childhood. The stage without Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny. It was all over, just like that.
I don’t remember it being as painful as I might expect looking back. I am a sensitive person but I am also a practical person so perhaps those two sides of me found it easy to reconcile that day. I blew right past depression and accepted the truth about Santa. Life was never quite the same.
Do you remember when you found out the truth about Santa? Share your story in the comments!
I don’t recall all details, but according to my parents when I found out there was no Santa, I cried. Contrast this to my brother, who merely asked, “I’ll still get presents, right?”
That sounds about right! Thanks for sharing!!
Sorry I had to giggle at the thought of you on your big wheel going to confront your parents 😉
I also noticed the handwriting!
I remember when I found out *for sure* I was in bed saying goodnight to my mom. I remember feeling sad, but part of me knew already.
Oh do I remember! Devastation is the only word to describe how I felt. I don’t know what age I was exactly. It was way back when my parents were still together. Every year my Mum filled our Christmas stockings so that we would wake up in the morning to find them at the end of our beds. That year, for some reason she had delegated the stocking filling to my father, and we both woke to find a single CD in each of our stockings (instead of the usual multiple small gifts), with a note from ‘Santa’ on the front in my father’s handwriting. My brother and I shed a lot of tears that day, and my Mum was furious! Thanks for sharing your Santa story Courtney 🙂
That was an interesting read. I never believed in Santa so I never had the experience of a shattered world with no Santa in it. My parents always told us that we celebrated Christmas because Jesus was born and Santa wasn’t necessary there.
Hope you had a wonderful Holiday
Hahaha, this is adorable – and kind of what happened with my brother a bit. I don’t even remember figuring it out, but I know it was really kind of young for a kid to stop beleiving. The logistics of a man covering the entire planet in one night just did not compute with me and everything I had learned about the size of the earth and space and stuff (my dad used to like to read to me from his Air and Space magazines and I liked to pretend I understood… lol), but it seemed to matter to my parents that I believed so I just… never told them for some reason? And then one day my mom sat me down to “break the news” and when I was like, “yea I know. I’ve known a long time,” she was equal parts flabbergasted and devastated. So she went the extra mile to keep my little brother believing as long as possible since he bought in whole-hog. Ultimately it was other kids that ruined it for him too. I felt really bad for him, because I sort of realized how much of the “magic” part of things I had missed out on by figuring it out so early, and to have that spoiled by other kids was just heartbreaking to watch.
I was about 9, and I found out by finding an unwrapped Barbie Townhouse in my Mom’s closet, which later appeared from Santa under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. I don’t remember being too upset that Santa wasn’t real, just that I had been lied to. I am not sure if my Mom would have ever told me if I hadn’t figured it out for myself.
I was an only child till my Dad remarried when I was 11. I never mentioned Santa at school to schoolmates when I found out, and I was glad to go along with the ruse with my younger step siblings.
it’s so nice and wonderful,thank uh for sharing dear..
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