The Dark Day in 4th Grade

When I found out about Santa, it was a bad day in 4th grade. I was minding my own business, right before the holidays, when a girl was talking about how she knows who Santa really is. (Ironically, she is one of my best friends.) I tried to ignore the conversation, but they kept talking about how it was really just mom and dad who gave us the presents, rather than a mysterious man in a red suit. So, shocked by the amount of people who thought this, I wanted to know the truth. I went home and asked my mom, point blank, "Is there really a Santa?" She tried to dance around the answer by telling me that there is always magic at Christmas and that everything is magical. I wouldn't except that answer, so I continued to be persistent. This went on for about 5 to 10 minutes, and eventually, my mom had had it. I pushed her buttons too many times that she just blurted out that "NO! Alright, there is no Santa!" This was obviously not the answer that I was looking for, and I burst into tears. I thought I could handle to truth, but I was sorrowly mistaken. My mom then felt so bad that she ran out and bought the movie, Miracle on 34th Street, just to see if that could make up for it. Now, it is one of my favorite holiday flicks, but I still remember the sadness that was with me that Christmas, and how much I wanted Santa to be real.