When I was a tot, my parents put boot-prints from the fireplace to the Christmas tree to prove to us kiddies that there really WAS a Santa. My mother was distinctly displeased with me for pointing out to my siblings that there were no boot-prints going BACK to the fireplace...
By the time I was seven years old, everyone else in my family
was an adult. I never believed in Santa Claus. My jaded older
siblings disabused me of that when I was very young. I missed
a LOT of my childhood innocence being raised in a houseful
of adults who didn’t care what I saw or overheard.