Which came first the training bra or giving up on Santa?
I was in fifth grade when I stopped believing in Santa.
How old was I? Who knows. I moved a lot and used the grade I was in as the marker. For example: in fifth grade I lived in Texas and thought I was Janet Jackson. Regardless of my years, I was still believing in Santa way longer than other kids.
It wasn’t just that I was idealistic. I had done scientific research on the subject.
Just like most, I had tested this Santa business in the usual ways. Sealing the letter before my parents could snatch it. Putting it in the mail myself. I was all about quality control. And yet, each and every year there beneath the tree was exactly what I wanted.
Mind boggling.
I was in fifth grade when I stopped believing in Santa.
How old was I? Who knows. I moved a lot and used the grade I was in as the marker. For example: in fifth grade I lived in Texas and thought I was Janet Jackson. Regardless of my years, I was still believing in Santa way longer than other kids.
It wasn’t just that I was idealistic. I had done scientific research on the subject.
Just like most, I had tested this Santa business in the usual ways. Sealing the letter before my parents could snatch it. Putting it in the mail myself. I was all about quality control. And yet, each and every year there beneath the tree was exactly what I wanted.
Mind boggling.
However, above and beyond all my tests I had hard proof that Santa existed. And it wasn’t from the cookie crumbs or letters with golden reindeer hooves. I KNEW Christmas morning after Christmas morning that there was no way my parents could afford the presents I received.
Santa was not just my sugar daddy. He made dreams come true.
For me, it was always about the feeling of Santa. I don’t remember ever trying to catch Santa. I don’t remember trying to hear him on the roof or calculate how he got around the world. That would be cheating, and besides Santa is about the magic of giving, not the catching. Instead, I would shut my eyes hard repeating to myself that the quicker I fell asleep the quicker it would be Christmas. The quicker Santa would work his magic.
Christmas is still my favorite time of year. As I write I am nursing my paper cut wounds from my self inflicted Christmas card mill. I’d like to think that while I stopped my letters to Santa after fifth grade I still embody the sentiment. Each year, without fail, there are presents under the tree from Fashion Santa, Epicurious Santa, and Literary Santa. Turns out Santa has diversified.
We are all Santa if we choose to be.
Claire reads incessantly, writes about all things literary , and ends every post with a perfect quote at Even Pretty Girls Need to Read. She has been leaving inspiring and encouraging comments at Wonju Wife for something like a year. She also read Twilight. Just sayin'.