Learning The Truth

Like most American kids who celebrate Christmas my parents told me about Santa Claus and like most kids I believed in him until I discovered a flaw in the story. For me the flaw was a matter of logistics, there was no way Santa could keep track of the naughty/nice ration for EVERY kid. I tested this theory by misbehaving as much as possible in December of 1979; when I still got gifts on Christmas I knew I was in the clear, my mother later confirmed that Santa was made up. This discovery led to many years of bad behavior around the holidays, such as:

1980– Removed items from my Father’s Christmas stocking, filled stocking with nails.

1983– Told my brother he was going to get gifts that he wasn’t really getting.

1984– Told sister that Santa had died and

1984– Stole from school holiday fair, spent gift money on candy.

1989– Stole from local store, spent gift money on cigarettes.

1995– Did shopping on Christmas Eve at 7-11 and 24 hour pharmacy.

1996– Insulted the Christmas Midget.

1998– Drove around on Christmas Eve distributing booze to the homeless.

2002– Neglected to shop until Christmas morning, bought gifts at adult video store.

2003– Taught youngest sister how to throw snowballs at cars and not get caught, also forced her to watch Teen Wolf which she did not like.

2006 – Snubbed someone for bringing non celebrity baked goods.

Ever since then I’ve been pretty well-behaved, hopefully this will result in some sort of Christmas miracle, like some of the gifts I never got as kids. Maybe this is the year I get the trampoline or the Dukes of Hazzard race set. Enough about me though, how did YOU find out the truth about holiday traditions? OR What do you tell your kids?



Filed under Be The Boy Holidays

14 responses to “Learning The Truth

  1. I love you but the $50 starting bid on the Dukes of Hazard Race Track Set on eBay will buy two bottles of bourbon.

  2. I don’t remember exactly how I figured out there was no Santa Claus – but I didn’t tell my parents when I did. I didn’t want the presents from Santa to stop, you see. Of course, it was only a couple of years later that they stopped anyway. I guess they’d realized I didn’t believe in Santa anymore.

  3. I found my Christmas lists in my mom’s underwear drawer. There among the lace I knew, she’d never mailed them because he didn’t exist.

  4. I was in denial from a very early age ever since I saw the elastic stitching on Santa’s beard at the department store. I suspect on some level I was co-conspiring with the adult world to enable what seemed an important and, well, pretty jolly myth, hoping against hope. My mother, probably intuiting my dilemma, eventually liberated me with a sentence that I only remember ended with “…when you stop believing in Santa Claus.” Yeah, OK.

  5. My mom never told me about Santa except to tell me it was just a story/he wasn’t real. So I always felt grown up, and being the bossy bratty girl I was spilled the beans to my entire kindergarten class, many of whom still have not forgiven me for this transgression on their young tender souls. Oh bother.

  6. Paul M

    Sorry but Santa is just not an “American Thing”
    The big guy belongs to all of us.

  7. One holiday season I got a Mickey Mouse tape recorder thing for my birthday, a mere 2 weeks before Christmas. My brother and I decided to set the tape to record Santa Claus. Um, that didn’t really work.

    Note- we only admitted our sleuthful ways to my parents last year.

  8. I can’t remember ever believing in Santa but I do remember that every year, after Thanksgiving, my parents would give my brother and me a reminder speech about how we weren’t to ruin it for the kids who did believe in Santa.

    My friend’s little girl (who you met) asked me when she was 4 if Santa was real. I told her the truth. It wasn’t traumatic, what with her being jewish and all, but I gave her the same speech about not ruining it for the Santa-believers.

  9. I remember hearing it on the playground when I was in maybe 2nd grade, but not believing he wasn’t real. (Granted, my dad had told me he ran over and killed the Easter Bunny when I was only 5). I think it was a Christmas not long after that (and when my dad was no longer around) when shortly after my grandmother arrived and there was a huge mountain covered with a sheet in my mom’s room that hadn’t been there when I’d gone out to play.

    My youngest brother has Down Syndrome & it took us YEARS to convince him that there’s no Santa. We finally did, but he still thinks professional wrestling is real, so…yeah.

  10. pete

    you found an adult video store open on christmas morning?

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