As seen in Feminine Collective
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| simpleinsomnia Flickr via Compfight cc
I was 8 years old when I realized there was no Santa Claus.
I’d lost the Snow White watch I’d received for Christmas—the one with the
yellow leather band that came with a plastic figurine of my favorite Disney
character. Sitting at breakfast some months later, I confessed the watch was
missing.
“We paid good money for that watch,” my father said. His
face wore “the look”—the one that made it clear he was disgusted with my carelessness.
“I thought Santa gave me the watch.” I was confused and my
mother jumped in with a feeble attempt to preserve the myth.
“Well, who do you think sends Santa the money?”
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