I don’t remember believing in Santa Claus. I don’t remember how exactly I came to disbelieve. I do remember a conversation with my mother (I can’t have been more than five) in which I stated my disbelief and she asked me not to share it with my younger brother, so that he could believe for another year or so. I don’t remember any great emotional upheaval. I also don’t think my parents went to any particular lengths to preserve the delusion.
That’s similar to my experience, although I think I was six years old rather than five. There was no specific trauma that led to my conclusion; I just decided it was more realistic that my parents were Santa Claus (and the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy) than if these entities actually existed. I asked my mother, she confirmed it, and I continued to play along for the benefit of my younger brother and cousins.
I don’t remember believing in Santa Claus. I don’t remember how exactly I came to disbelieve. I do remember a conversation with my mother (I can’t have been more than five) in which I stated my disbelief and she asked me not to share it with my younger brother, so that he could believe for another year or so. I don’t remember any great emotional upheaval. I also don’t think my parents went to any particular lengths to preserve the delusion.
That’s similar to my experience, although I think I was six years old rather than five. There was no specific trauma that led to my conclusion; I just decided it was more realistic that my parents were Santa Claus (and the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy) than if these entities actually existed. I asked my mother, she confirmed it, and I continued to play along for the benefit of my younger brother and cousins.