When I was seven, my brother, who was eight, told me he had seen the Easter Bunny. He smiled enthusiastically and I believed every word he said. Then I turned eight and Christmas came around. I wanted a doll house that year. I woke up during the night and heard my mother and father talking. I listened--and from what they said, I knew my father was following the instructions for putting together a doll house. At that point, I realized Santa Claus was a myth.
When and how did you stop believing in Santa Claus?