Try to remember being told that Santa Claus is fictional. Up
until that point, each year, you had taken seriously the tally of your good
deeds in hope of a bigger, better, gift-wrapped reward. But now the spell is
broken, there was no fat man squeezing down the chimney with Transformers in
tow. You’re furious, face red as a beetroot, at being tricked. Now pair this
simple truth, your bald-faced anger in the face of contradiction, with the
equally evident truth that you carry around many, many more false ideas at the
age of 12 (and to this day) than just Santa’s existence.
