Among the first lies a parent tells their child is that every December 25th, a fat, white-bearded man in a red suit takes a tumble down the chimney just so he can deliver presents to every good boy and girl in the world. 

We could question the logic of such a lie: how does he fit down the chimney? How the hell can 8 tiny reindeer carry both the fat man and the large sack of presents? Really? All in one night? 

We didn't even get around to asking how is Santa compensated? Of all places, why does he listen to our wishes at a shopping mall? Does he not know how the U.S. Postal Service works? 

Before we even came around to asking these questions, it was too late. In one way or another, the legend of Santa Claus had already died. 

Maybe it was because we had discovered our parents putting the presents under the tree. Maybe it was because we were able to recognize our parents' handwriting on the packages. Maybe we never believed to begin with, but a much more sinister lie was discovered instead.

However it happened, well, it happened. Read on to learn more about the discovery of one of the first lies parents tell their children. 

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Lauren

The year my sister, who is six years my senior, lured me into the basement to be her “Christmas apprentice” under the pretense that we were on a special mission.

She revealed her favorite holiday pastime: unwrapping, peeking, and carefully re-wrapping all the shiny gifts that were not so well hidden in the undercarriage of our house. If I was shocked, I didn’t show it; but I refused to participate.

That didn’t matter, seeing as her obsession with premature present opening didn’t prevent her from tearing open a sparkly new red etch-a-sketch for yours truly.

It all happened very fast...I was thrilled by the coveted etch-a-sketch, my sister was out of control, and Santa wasn’t real. It was in that moment I started polishing my best acting skills for Christmas morning.

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Jackie

I was really close with my cousin who was like the big sister I never had (she’s 12 years older). We were having a sleepover in my room on Christmas Eve when I was about 8 or 9.

I went to bed early and was woken up by some loud bangs and the tinkling of bells. In my youthful naivety, I gleefully believed that the man himself had landed on my roof (sled, reindeer, and all), and woke up my sleeping cousin.

She turned over (I’m not even sure if she was awake) and said, “Jac, Santa isn’t real,” proceeded to laugh, and went back to sleep. While I stubbornly believed that there’s no way in the world he couldn’t be real, the seed of doubt had been planted.

From then on out, I was a little Nancy Drew, questioning everything and anything to do with Christmas. There was no real ah-ha moment, but it was devastating all the same.

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MJ 

Santa isn’t real?

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Amber

On Christmas Eve, my cousin asked, “Who do you think is going to be Santa this year?” My brother tried to stop what had already happened by whispering to my cousin that I still believed in Santa.

I assured them that I knew that the Santa who came to Aunt Millie’s every year was just one of our uncles dressed in a red suit. They looked at each other knowingly saying, “Oh yeah, we thought you didn’t know that...”

But, me being the astute 1st grader that I was, I caught onto the social cues and realized they were talking about the other Santa Claus who allegedly rides his sleigh all around the world in one night (as if I wasn’t already suspicious).

I was just holding onto the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing for as long as I possibly could. Thanks for ruining that, Steph…

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Sara

I’m Jewish, so I will write about the tooth fairy.

I knew the tooth fairy wasn’t real, but my younger sister didn’t. We decided we’d catch her once and for all. I told my sister that if she didn’t tell either of my parents that she’d lost her tooth, we’d know for a fact there was in fact a fairy who purchased children’s teeth.

Once I’d done this, I was wracked with guilt. I couldn’t take it. So, I double-crossed my sister. I pulled my mom aside and confidentially told her that my sister had lost a tooth.

When my enchanted, ten-year-old sister found a dollar under her pillow the next morning, her belief was confirmed. This is why my sister believed in the tooth fairy for an inordinate amount of time. Stefanie, I am sorry.

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Catherine

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I realized that Santa wasn’t real, but I do remember the first Christmas that I had a pretty strong inkling about it. 

I was a little older, but my parents were still writing "From Santa" and "From Mom and Dad" on separate gifts, determined to keep up the ruse as long as possible. 

They still wouldn't admit to my sister and I that it was just them putting the presents under the tree, so naturally, I figured out a way to trick them into it.

I had just opened a present marked as "From Santa", and waited an appropriate amount of time for my mother to become distracted by something. I then gushed over the gift and casually asked where she got it. 

Once she told me, I revealed my scheme with the energy and gumption of a lawyer making their closing statements, and she was forced to officially confirm the truth.

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Astrid

I first realized Santa wasn't real at the age of 7. My parents would always have me write a letter to Santa, specifically telling him what I wanted. They even played this whole charade for a while where they will supposedly mail the letter right in front of me.

Although to be frank, I always had my suspicions. We lived in an apartment building in Brooklyn and we had no chimney. So, for a while I thought perhaps there's a special helper, not Santa per se, just someone out there who lends parents money for this special occasion.

For that particular Christmas, I wanted a life-size doll. I guess it should've dawned on me the moment they took me to the store and had me point out exactly which doll I wanted.

A few days before Christmas my dad had asked me to grab something for him from his closet. I made my way to his closet, opened it, and lo and behold, at the very top was the unwrapped box with the life-size doll. 

I was completely devastated, but instead of screaming from utter shock, I quickly grabbed what he wanted and went on my merry way.

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Pete

I can’t remember actually believing in Santa. I think it probably dawned on me that Santa is a trick when I was able to recognize my mother’s ornate cursive handwriting on the presents supposedly from Santa.

Having parents ascribing to different sects of Christianity, I do remember from long ago recognizing that they worshipped the same Santa, so that was interesting.

I still get presents from Santa, but that dude doesn’t know what I want even though I pray to him every year. All year round, actually. Still waiting for that Sega Dreamcast, pal...

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Jamison 

I sometimes wonder how hard it must have been for my parents having five kids and all, but more often than not, those thoughts come at Christmas. It had to be hard, and not only in buying presents for five obnoxious kids, but hiding them from kids that can almost sense their presence in the house. 

So, there isn't necessarily a definitive time that I remember not believing in Santa, but I do remember the first Christmas I actively ignored any thought that he was real. 

I was 9 and I'd asked for a Star Wars Episode I Naboo Starfighter. You know, the bright yellow ship with an R2 unit built into it, two buttons that make screeching and blasting noises. Of course you know what I'm talking about. How the hell do you not remember that ship? I do. 

Well, it didn't take me long to find it, but that's because it had neither been carefully hidden, nor wrapped. It was peeking out of a huge black trash bag behind an armchair in my parents' bedroom.

People have said that I'd ruined Christmas for myself, and I've done just that nearly every year since. I like to consider myself, in those days, a child wise beyond his years, ruthless, tactical, inquisitive, and adept at tempering his expectations. 

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[Feature Image Courtesy Huffington Post]