The Teamsters. Where do you think Jimmy Hoffa disappeared to?
I was 9 or so. I remember my mom and dad telling me over dinner. My response was, "But the Easter Bunny's real, right?" No. Damn. What a dinner.
How old were you....
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The Teamsters. Where do you think Jimmy Hoffa disappeared to?
I was 9 or so. I remember my mom and dad telling me over dinner. My response was, "But the Easter Bunny's real, right?" No. Damn. What a dinner.
Yeah, I think I was 7-8 like most kids, and the answer of "it's magic" just didn't cut it anymore. Plus, by that age I knew toys were made in factories by disparate companies, so how was it Santa's elves produced Hot Wheels and LEGOs? Didn't make any sense. At that point, I just put it together that my parents must've been the ones buying stuff and saying it was from "Santa."
I will say my parents were slick enough to never get caught. One time, they even assembled a rather complicated race track that took up half the living room.
I can appreciate the effort that went into that, knowing it wasn't "magic."I remember telling my younger sister that I'd figured out Santa wasn't real. She didn't believe me, of course. When she went to our parents about it they were pissed.
I was under five when I asked why the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus had the same handwriting as the woman who used to take care of us. Her and her husband were like grandparents to us and used to do all the holiday stuff.
Apparently she was totally unprepared for the question but said that she was Santa's helper and I bought that for another year or two.
Apparently she was totally unprepared for the question but said that she was Santa's helper and I bought that for another year or two.
About 7 or 8. I had long suspected, but enjoyed the "game" of it. I think it was my oldest sister who finally shoved the truth in my face. I remember being pretty sad about it. I had enjoyed pretending.
Heck, even today, I enjoy all the trapping of Christmas--the decorating, the music, and gift giving--probably a lot more than I should.
Heck, even today, I enjoy all the trapping of Christmas--the decorating, the music, and gift giving--probably a lot more than I should.
I think it's great that you enjoy it and there's nothing wrong with that. I get disappointed when I see people or whole families that seem cynical about Christmas. They seem to do things because they feel they have to, rather than enjoying it. I'm like you. I enjoy the decorating, the music, and the gift giving!
When I was very young (3 or 4) I was actually afraid of Santa, as the idea of a strange man sneaking into our house at night was not at all comforting to me. I was a rather paranoid and skeptical little child, so beginning around 4 or 5 I really doubted the existence of Santa because it just didn't seem plausible. I confirmed the non-existence of the Easter Bunny by watching my parents put out the eggs through a window, and a couple of years later I confirmed the non-existence of Santa when I noticed that the presents from Santa were wrapped in the same paper I had seen my mom buy at the store. I was relieved to learn it was my parents because this meant that there really wasn't an intruder entering through the chimney.
I didn't tell my little sisters because the fun, for me, was in helping my parents prolong the mystery (my sisters don't possess the same fear and paranoia that I do). Just as I love surprising people more than I actually enjoy being surprised myself. It's impressive that with four girls we each kept it to ourselves until the younger ones stopped believing on their own. We fought like crazy but to steal away the magic of Christmas would have been sacrilege.
Even this year I plan on sneaking some stuff into my parents' stockings when they aren't looking so that they can feel the wonder too.
I didn't tell my little sisters because the fun, for me, was in helping my parents prolong the mystery (my sisters don't possess the same fear and paranoia that I do). Just as I love surprising people more than I actually enjoy being surprised myself. It's impressive that with four girls we each kept it to ourselves until the younger ones stopped believing on their own. We fought like crazy but to steal away the magic of Christmas would have been sacrilege.
Even this year I plan on sneaking some stuff into my parents' stockings when they aren't looking so that they can feel the wonder too.
I was 7. My brother told me and then proceeded to "prove" it to me. So we snuck into our parent's bedroom and he opened the closet door and there was a stack, taller than I was and the entire width of the closet chock full of presents. My brother reached for one with my name on it and started opening it - very sophisticatedly at the tapes (yes, I was impressed - hey! I was 7). Then, he suddenly stopped, cocked his head, then set the gift down on the stack and says to me "stay here, I'll be right back".
So, after a minute or so, I get bored and curious and I pick up the gift and then my mother walks in.
I told her "I didn't do it", but she didn't believe me.
So, after a minute or so, I get bored and curious and I pick up the gift and then my mother walks in.
I told her "I didn't do it", but she didn't believe me.
Elves Workers' Unions. The Elves' Commissar is elected annually to supervise production and delivery of the toys.
Added to all that, there's a certain magic to it all when one still has children who believe in Santa. To that end, I'm amazed at how young everyone who posted here so far was when their belief stopped.
My 7 year-old daughter still believes. My 11 year-old daughter has asked questions, and had friends tell her Santa's not real, but she still wants to believe. When she tells me what her friends said, I just tell her she has to decide for herself. In this cynical age where children grow up too fast, it innocent and beautiful that she still wants to believe. When they stop believing, Christmas won't be quite as much fun for me as it is now. (But at least I can finally have them put their own damn gifts together. "Here's the instructions and a wrench, dear. Good luck with that bike.")
I think I was about 7 or 8 years old. I realized that the writing on my Christmas present gift tags that said "Santa" was the same as my dad's handwriting. So he came clean.
I think I was 4 or 5, just old enough to observe on Christmas day that "Santa"'s handwriting on all the presents happened to match my mom's, and "Rudolph"'s handwriting happened to match my dad's.
My younger sister was sooooooo excited that Santa and Rudolph paid our house a visit though, and I remember just kinda smiling to myself and going along with it so I wouldn't spoil her excitement or disappoint my parents for seeing through the ruse. I count that amongst one of the first 'mature' personal decisions I made.
My mom explicitly told me Santa wasn't real when she became a practising JW the year afterward and we stopped observing Holidays altogether. I didn't tell her that I already knew until I was into adulthood.
My younger sister was sooooooo excited that Santa and Rudolph paid our house a visit though, and I remember just kinda smiling to myself and going along with it so I wouldn't spoil her excitement or disappoint my parents for seeing through the ruse. I count that amongst one of the first 'mature' personal decisions I made.
My mom explicitly told me Santa wasn't real when she became a practising JW the year afterward and we stopped observing Holidays altogether. I didn't tell her that I already knew until I was into adulthood.
i was about 5 or 6. i was acting up christmas night and my parents bruoght me downstairs about 10:30 or so (i know it was real late for my age) and my dad told me bluntly 'go back to bed, quit misbehaving or you don't get those presents!' as he pointed at the pile under the tree.
if i have kids, i don't think i'm going to tell them about Santa. i don't like the idea of BSing my kids like that.
if i have kids, i don't think i'm going to tell them about Santa. i don't like the idea of BSing my kids like that.
I was 7. For some reason, I don't remember why, I wanted my teeth back from the tooth fairy. I figured that since a tooth gets me a quarter, a quarter should get me a tooth. So, I put seven quarters under my pillow, one for each tooth I had lost.
I didn't tell anybody about my plan, so naturally, the next morning, the quarters were still there. I came to my mom sobbing, asking why the tooth fairy didn't give me my teeth back. She asked me if I really wanted to know and I said yes. So, she told me about the tooth fairy.
I immediately asked her if that meant that she was also Santa and the Easter Bunny, and she said yes and made me promise not to tell my little sister (who was 4 at the time). This all happened in March. In November of that year, my sister kept asking me about Santa Claus, and I told her the truth because I didn't want to lie. (My mom was kind of mad but I didn't get into any trouble because how can you really punish a 7 year old for telling the truth?)
I didn't tell anybody about my plan, so naturally, the next morning, the quarters were still there. I came to my mom sobbing, asking why the tooth fairy didn't give me my teeth back. She asked me if I really wanted to know and I said yes. So, she told me about the tooth fairy.
I immediately asked her if that meant that she was also Santa and the Easter Bunny, and she said yes and made me promise not to tell my little sister (who was 4 at the time). This all happened in March. In November of that year, my sister kept asking me about Santa Claus, and I told her the truth because I didn't want to lie. (My mom was kind of mad but I didn't get into any trouble because how can you really punish a 7 year old for telling the truth?)
My dad is a doctor. It is a proven fact that - and I say this as a loving son - doctors cannot write worth squat.
I think I was about six. I snuck out of my room on a stealth mission to see if Santa had come yet and saw my dad assembling my new bike in the living room. It was being assembled with LIES! 
LOL, my parents didn't bother, especially when I decided to put out a proof-of-delivery signature sheet for Santa to conclusively prove the matter. They figured if I was old enough to think that up (knowing the result I was likely to get), then I was old enough to know the truth.
Fun thread. Like many here, I was about 7 or 8. Combination of the handwriting thing (my mom's is very distinctive - though she always made sure that the wrapping paper on gifts from Santa never also appeared on gifts from any one else) and scuttlebutt on the playground at school I suppose.
Here's a related question, though, for those of you who figured it out yourselves: how long before you let your parents know you "knew the truth"? I waited 3 or 4 years, because I didn't want to ruin their fun.
Plus, I had a younger brother, and didn't want to spoil it for him - not that there weren't times when I was sorely tempted; the little brat.
Dad took the news stoically, but I swear I thought my mom was going to burst into tears.
Yeah, that amazes me to this day. Even though I knew, and even when I tried my darndest to stay awake just to catch them at it, somehow I always conked out and never heard them sneaking around. I remember so many times trying to keep my eyes open and then waking up at like 3:00 in the morning and running to the livingroom, only to see all the presents already under the tree. Talk about a "D'OH!" moment.
I have long suspected that they were putting some kind of little kiddie tranquilizers in our cookies and milk on Christmas Eve.
At one family gathering after my brother and I were all grown up, my parents confessed that one Christmas Eve they'd had a little too much Christmas cheer and knocked over the tree while trying to put all the packages underneath. They were sure they were busted, but we never heard a thing.
Again, I think the tranq's are the only answer.
Here's a related question, though, for those of you who figured it out yourselves: how long before you let your parents know you "knew the truth"? I waited 3 or 4 years, because I didn't want to ruin their fun.
Plus, I had a younger brother, and didn't want to spoil it for him - not that there weren't times when I was sorely tempted; the little brat.
Dad took the news stoically, but I swear I thought my mom was going to burst into tears.
I will say my parents were slick enough to never get caught. One time, they even assembled a rather complicated race track that took up half the living room.
Yeah, that amazes me to this day. Even though I knew, and even when I tried my darndest to stay awake just to catch them at it, somehow I always conked out and never heard them sneaking around. I remember so many times trying to keep my eyes open and then waking up at like 3:00 in the morning and running to the livingroom, only to see all the presents already under the tree. Talk about a "D'OH!" moment.
I have long suspected that they were putting some kind of little kiddie tranquilizers in our cookies and milk on Christmas Eve.
At one family gathering after my brother and I were all grown up, my parents confessed that one Christmas Eve they'd had a little too much Christmas cheer and knocked over the tree while trying to put all the packages underneath. They were sure they were busted, but we never heard a thing.
Again, I think the tranq's are the only answer.
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