WHEN DID YOU STOP BELIEVING IN SANTA CLAUS?
Phill_Most
4,594 Posts
I was old as FUCK. My mom would not tell me there was no Santa Claus, no matter how many times I grilled her on it. I think I had hairs on my nutsac and was still goin' around arguing with folls like "there is TOO a Santa, my mama told me he IS real!" 
How about you, how old were you when you found out there was no Santa Claus? (And don't reply with something clever like "wait.... there's no santa claus?" That would be corny. Almost as corny as all of my posts today 
)
How about you, how old were you when you found out there was no Santa Claus? (And don't reply with something clever like "wait.... there's no santa claus?" That would be corny. Almost as corny as all of my posts today )
Comments
WERRRRD... I had serious trust issues with my mom forever for not just telling me the truth about ol' saint nick (sounds ridiculous, but very true). That's why I don't even play that schitt with my kids. I tell them the real truth- ain't no white men comin' to our house to give us nothin'!
I would've stopped believing in Santa Claus before then, but for the longest time I thought I had HARD EVIDENCE that he existed. Sometime when I was in 1st or 2nd grade I woke up early in the morning and I heard Santa standing at my bedroom door. He was breathing real heavy and just standing there and I tried real hard not to move or anything cause I didn't want him to know I was awake. So I just laid there for a long time and he just stood there breathing, and I knew it wasn't my parents cause he was breathing REAL HARD like a fat guy.
Finally i couldn't take it anymore and I decided I was just going to pop up as fast as I can and look at him and catch him in the act. So I was like 1... 2... 3... and...
BAM!
I popped up and the motherfucker was GONE!
I jumped out of bed as fast as I could and ran all over the house but he was nowhere to be found. I checked under the tree, and sure enough, all the presents were there. So I checked some stuff out and went back to bed to wait for morning.
So why did I stop believing in Santa, and what was the breathing, you may ask?
I didn't figure this out until at least high school. It was the question that always dogged me, that always nagged me, like what the FUCK was that breathing?
Finally, one day, many years later, it hit me.
At that time I was sleeping on the top bunk of a bunk bed I shared with my little brother. My brother always had allergy issues and nosebleed issues and all that stuff. So finally, after many moons, I concluded the heavy breathing was, in fact, my little brother with a stuffy nose or something. When I jumped up I was so excited that I never noticed that the breathing continued.
Anyway, I keep the story up with my kids. I'll never forget the excitement of knowing some crazy fat guy was bringing me presents and I'd like my kids to have that experience as well. It's hard to stay young and carefree so I want my kids to have that as long as possible.
My parents finally leveled with my when I was about 9 or 10. I probably knew earlier than that, but they wouldn't admit it.
The best was one year, my dad dressed up as santa, and climbed half way into our fireplace while my mom took a polaroid of him. In the morning they said that they heard santa, and tried to sneak out and get a good picture of him... but that he was too quick and dashed up the chimney.
I was obviously
And to think of it... I must have been like 6 or something... and that trick probably made me believe a few more years longer than I would have if they didn't do it.
I think the whole santa story is more fun for parents than it is for kids. Seeing their kids get all geeked out and excited over santa reminds them of the innocence of their own youth. Kids just want presents. Period.
Fuck kids are stupid. But incredibly beautiful and simple too.
Haha! Exactly the same here and although Santa would only nibble the mince pies he'd always finish the glass of whisky...hmmm.
Thats a therapists wet dream right there.
My Mom was slick with hers. We had a skylight in our bathroom that could be opened up like a hatch. One year we woke up on Christmas morning all excited and she somehow had us "discover" a piece of red cloth hanging from the skylight. "What could it be? Where did it come from?" she asked us. She had us come in to the living room and, on queue, the local radio station DJ came over the airwaves and announced "I just got word from the North Pole that Santa accidentally tore his pants when he visited a home on the southside today. So boys and girls, check your rooftops and see if you can find anything!" Needless to say, my little brother and I were in awe. It's all we could talk about for the next couple weeks. We were showing off the red cloth to all our cousins and friends.
Man, I'm getting a little teary-eyed just thinking about it. My Mom set that up perfectly. Putting the fabric up there, calling up the DJ and asking him to announce it, timing it just right....I can't wait 'til I have kids to keep that magic alive.
Herm
my parents used to go the whole 9 though.. half drank milk... my dad would go up in the attic real late at night and literally stomp around and make like sliding sled noises and jingle bells and shit..
i can remember the days where i couldnt even sleep on xmas eve i was sooooooo psyched.