I remember the exact moment I realized Santa wasn’t real. Really, it wasn’t a single moment so much as a realization that steamed and frothed and finally boiled over one Christmas eve. Things hadn’t been adding up for a while. Why were my parents so insistent that we get to bed before Santa comes? How, for that matter, did Santa have time to visit everyone? What was up with the subtle smirk on their faces when they talked about this now-that-you-mention-it-very-improbable-sounding man?
the red man
the red man
the red man
I remember the exact moment I realized Santa wasn’t real. Really, it wasn’t a single moment so much as a realization that steamed and frothed and finally boiled over one Christmas eve. Things hadn’t been adding up for a while. Why were my parents so insistent that we get to bed before Santa comes? How, for that matter, did Santa have time to visit everyone? What was up with the subtle smirk on their faces when they talked about this now-that-you-mention-it-very-improbable-sounding man?