warning: Don’t let your kids read this post. unless you’re like my friend who never believed in this man who breaks into your home and eats your food.
Following a funny conversation the other day, I had to post the story of how I figured out Santa wasn’t real.
So, we’re Native American, right? That means, among many other things, we were born without that lovely enzyme that breaks down dairy products in our digestive system. I know, I know, plenty of other people of all different backgrounds are lactose intolerant, but I’ve never met a Native who CAN digest dairy. Unless they were blessed with a parent of another background that can supplement that enzyme. Anyway, long story short, my entire family growing up never did too well with milk.
But my lovely parents put up with wasting milk every Christmas Eve so we kids could continue with the traditional idea that Santa wants what the fairy tale tells us he wants. It was so much fun to put out the cookies we made with Mom and that tall glass of what I now refer to as “liquid death.”After said liquid death was on the table, off we girls went to bed to await this mythological gift barer to mysteriously break into our home to give us presents.
Well it wasn’t until one year, at which age I was, I couldn’t tell you, when my mother mixed it up on us.
She told us to put the milk away. The cookies were on the table but that this year we should bring out the Pepsi, instead. Santa gets milk from everyone else. This year, it was up to us to give him something different.
Santa doesn’t drink Pepsi… MOM DRINKS PEPSI.
And after confronting them, the mystery was debunked. Just like that I was ushered into another phase of my childhood. Woe.
However, I should’ve already had that idea. I vaguely remember waking up at like 10:30pm (we had bedtimes as tots and I remember once having an 8:30pm bedtime) thinking it was Christmas morning. And there they were, Art & Zen, wrapping gifts.
I may as well have been sleepwalking because all they did was tell me to go back to bed. As the dutiful (and groggy/half-asleep) daughter I was, I waltzed right back to bed. I never questioned that moment.
Funny the things you remember from your childhood later on.
I’ve heard a couple different accounts of how parents keep the myth going or how they give up all together. Did your parents go along with Santa? I’d love to hear other stories. Hope you tell me about them! 🙂
In the meantime, I can’t ruin this for people with kids. I’ve got to learn to keep my big mouth shut. Just last year I remember being with my friends and asking them this very question, “Do you guys remember when you learned Santa wasn’t real?” And of course, my friend’s 5-year old son was in the room. Oh the glares I got.