"Mom, if Santa Claus is so fat, how does he fit down the chimney?" I asked, with innocent curiosity pouring from me.
"I don't know. Hey, you know what? When we get to your uncle's house, why don't you ask him?"
"Why? Does he know Santa?"
"No, but he's very fat."
I believed in Santa Claus until I was seven years old. Parents give their children ample opportunity to excite their imaginations. Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny are some of the magical creatures I grew up believing were real. Of course, I questioned the logic of their existence. How do reindeer fly? How does Santa get all those gifts delivered to all the children in the world in just ONE night? Why are the naughty kids getting better gifts than the nice? Why didn't I see Santa when I snuck downstairs at midnight? As it turns out, logic wins and Santa loses.
Although I learned the truth, I will never forget the excitement I held at the possibility of there being a real Santa Claus. Just think about it! The notion defies the laws of nature. It's absolutely extraordinary. It's like superheroes, or UFOs, or the paranormal, and all the other subjects that spark our interest in fantasy. Reality is very boring, and anything that strays from it is an exciting prospect. Reality is no fun, and it's just too bad that logic wins. Won't it lose just once?
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