I believed in Santa Claus a little longer than most children do. For some reason, as long as I couldn’t definitely prove that my parents were the ones leaving presents under the Christmas tree, I wasn’t ready to completely reject the possibility that it really was jolly old Saint Nick riding a sleigh pulled by reindeer and magically shrinking himself small enough to slip under the front door or through the key hole and into my house (we didn’t have a chimney).
And my parents were incredibly sneaky. I never once caught them. But when I finally told my dad I didn’t believe in Santa any more, he said, with a sly grin, “Santa doesn’t deliver presents to kids who don’t believe in him,” and I promptly responded, “I believe! I believe!” The matter was settled. I got some awesome Legos that year. ………….