If you still believe in Santa Claus, please avert your eyes from the screen right now.

I’ll wait.

For the rest of you, how old were you when you realized that there wasn’t really a Santa Claus?

Five or six? Nine or ten? Thirty?

For me, the realization came on bit by bit over the years when I was little.

First off, on the gift tags on my Christmas presents, I noticed that the “To Lori, Love Santa” inscription was written in handwriting that looked an awful lot like my Mom’s. In fact, exactly like hers. I realized that it was, in fact, my Mom’s handwriting, not Santa’s.

That was my first inkling that something was up with this whole Santa thing.

Later on, I saw a notice in the newspaper that Santa would be visiting the Eaton Centre, a major mall in downtown Toronto. I was so excited! I could get my picture taken with the real Santa!

But then I saw another ad touting Santa’s visit to another mall on the same day. At the exact same time. How could Santa be in two places at once? That seemed a bit fishy to me. It slowly dawned on me that it wasn’t really Santa, but merely regular people in Santa costumes.

As an older but wiser young person, I came to discover that a lot of people I’d thought were real were in fact fictitious. Not just Santa and the Tooth Fairy, but others as well. There isn’t even a real Betty Crocker—she’s merely a creation of advertisers.

It’s always disillusioning when you discover that something you once believed in isn’t true after all.

But how comforting it is to know that there really was a Jesus Christ.

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