Summary: When I was five years old, I asked Santa for a car. It’s all I wanted. A convertible to be exact. Under my Christmas tree Christmas morning was a cream-colored Rolls Royce convertible with tan interior. It was the coolest Power Wheels I’d ever seen. Santa came through! That was the last Christmas gift I ever got from Santa. After that, all my Christmas gifts came from my family, and I knew about nearly every one of them in advance because I went to the store to pick them out. I don’t actually remember my mom breaking the news to me that Santa wasn’t a real person. I’m pretty sure i just figured it out on my own—seeing as how all the gifts from “Santa” were gifts I’d just seen my mom buy at the toy store. I actually remember believing in the tooth fairy until I was about 8, but Santa. No go on the jolly man in the red suit. My mom is a people pleaser, and she loves giving gifts. She hates giving the wrong gifts, so she always wants to know exactly what I ( and the rest of the family) wants so she can get the right thing. This isn’t bad, but as a child, it kind of killed Christmas for me. I even wrapped my own presents once Mom realized I was a great gift wrapper. Read More...
