It was the beginning of my journey into fact-based reasoning, naturalism, etc. I distinctively remember thinking: I will never believe in magic again!
I started asking too many questions at catholic Sunday school, and the Sunday school teacher and I decided it was best that we part ways.
I am over 40 now, but this is such a strong and important memory. I am still a little pissed off about it. This is hilarious, and maybe a bit profound.
On the other hand there is no harm in stories. I also do not want my kids to believe something just because I believe it. They should think for themselves and to do otherwise it is dishonest.
I do agree it is sometimes odd. I found myself trying to explain to a bewildered Sikh guy on Twitter why British society gets upset when people tell kids that Santa Claus is not real but is fine with people telling kids that Jesus is not real.
It really is a dominance hierarchy there, something we expect from animals. People are supposed to be better than that.
Strangely my brother was far, far older when my mother and I had to convince him that Santa was not actually real. She was afraid that kids at school would make fun of him if we didn’t pop his bubble first. I’m not sure what to make of that difference in belief between my brother and I.