This is the story of how I stopped believing in Santa.
Disclaimer: if you DO believe in Santa, DO NOT read this post..
I guess most kids stop believing when their parents drop a hint such as 'we don't have money for presents this year' or 'we need to get some presents'. Also, I've heard lots of stories about kids finding their Christmas gifts before Christmas and being really disappointed. I was lucky enough to believe until the age of 8 or 9. My parents were very convincing. Sadly, this is the age where your common sense starts kicking in and you start thinking on your own.
That's the time when I started to doubt the existence of that jolly old fellow known as Santa.
I was one of those kids who never missed a chance to meet Santa. Therefore I visited his grotto every opportunity I got. After a while I started noticing that every Santa I met looked different - their beard, their eyes, their padded stomachs that felt like pillows, even their costumes felt different. One of the "Santas" even resembled my dad a little. Interesting...
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| This is like Where's Wally. Spot the real Santa! |
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| Eh, looking kind of creepy there, Mr. Claus... |
So I decided at the time that maybe Santa's helpers dressed up as Santa sometimes to help him out.
Then there was also the thing where everyone kept saying Santa stopped by and left a gift for me. So I wondered why I had never seen him myself. I mean, if he had a present for me, why didn't he come and give it to me in person? And even though I met "Santa" lots of times, why did he never mention that gift?
So that also made me doubt Santa.
The last straw was when I was about 10 years old and I read Jules Verne's "Around the World in 80 days". I realised that it was completely impossible to visit every child's home in one night.
So that was the end of my childhood fantasy. I was very proud of myself at the time for figuring it out all by myself, but now I can't help but regret it. My Christmas will never be the same...
Happy Christmas everybody!
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