Like most 6 year olds I’d had my suspicions about Santa for some time. The seeds of doubt were first planted at school. Other kids, kids who even from that early age were so much more streetwise than me; streetwise before streetwise was necessary, were making claims that it was their parents and not Santa who were leaving the presents at the bottom of their beds. They knew because they had seen them. They also know because their older brothers had told them. If you knew their older brothers you would have believed them too. They had the air of being right about everything.
A couple of times, half awake, I thought I had seen the shillouette of Santa come into my room and carefully place presents at the foot of my bed. The second time I remember thinking how similar he was in shillouette to my father, but he said it wasn’t him and I believed him. I still had doubts though. The mechanics didn’t make sense. The sleigh and the reindeers: you want me to believe that? Kind of fun; I could believe that. Down the chimney of the house of every kid in the world? I had a wild imagination as a child, I rolled with it; not an argument I wanted to pick holes in anyway. This is what debunked the myth for me: the way my toys were packaged when I unwrapped them. Or, more precisely the branding on the packaging. Hasbro made my Star Wars figures, not the elves.
A child of my age
Like most 6 year olds I’d had my suspicions about Santa for some time. The seeds of doubt were first planted at school. Other kids, kids who even from that early age were so much more streetwise than me; streetwise before streetwise was necessary, were making claims that it was their parents and not Santa who were leaving the presents at the bottom of their beds. They knew because they had seen them. They also know because their older brothers had told them. If you knew their older brothers you would have believed them too. They had the air of being right about everything.
A couple of times, half awake, I thought I had seen the shillouette of Santa come into my room and carefully place presents at the foot of my bed. The second time I remember thinking how similar he was in shillouette to my father, but he said it wasn’t him and I believed him. I still had doubts though. The mechanics didn’t make sense. The sleigh and the reindeers: you want me to believe that? Kind of fun; I could believe that. Down the chimney of the house of every kid in the world? I had a wild imagination as a child, I rolled with it; not an argument I wanted to pick holes in anyway. This is what debunked the myth for me: the way my toys were packaged when I unwrapped them. Or, more precisely the branding on the packaging. Hasbro made my Star Wars figures, not the elves.