The Truth About Christmas

The truth about Christmas was a secret I discovered very early in life. I was approximately three and a half years old. As I sat in the back seat of the car waiting for my dad to come out of Target I looked at the front seat and asked my mother point blank, "Is there really a Santa Claus?" I don't remember her answer exactly, but I know it was some parental bullshit. Which is okay. Who wants their kid to figure out this universal lie so early?

Anyway, I sniffed my way through. "Yeah, but how does Santa Claus get all the way around the world and..." I explored the obvious fallacies in the St. Nick myth aloud and I could see my mother growing visibly agitated. She asked me, "Do you want to know the truth?" Um, yeah? So she told me the truth: mom and dad, grandma and grandma, etc. buy the gifts and stay up later on Christmas to put the gifts under the tree and then they write Santa Claus in the 'From:' portion of the gift tag.

This did not bother me. It did bother my parents when I peeked into the trunk, knowing that my dad had no doubt purchased Santa's share in the toy aisles of Target (still my favorite department store.) It bothered them when I tried to peek under my dad's desk to find out what kind of wrapping paper I could find my loot in on xmas morning.

Now I am 21, and I wish I only had Santa to blame.