There is a category missing from the above writeup on children and Santa and all that HoHoHo.

The Ones Who Don't Remember

I used to believe in Santa, used to lie to my parents like the cunning little brat I was about how I had seen Santa's boot as he escaped from my apartment window, or heard sleigh bells, or caught the sound of a braying reindeer from the roof, and I used to sneak out periodically to check and see if anything had been left yet and if Santa would be okay with my mom 'sleeping' on the couch, hands clutched to her chest. I had no idea that her hands were hiding a pair of scissors or that she was crushing a roll of wrapping paper underneath her or that everything looked so damned, well, Christmassy because everything looks Christmassy under candlelight. I had no idea. I had the story and the story was enough.

My mom asked me once when it was, exactly, that I stopped believing in Santa Claus and I thought about it long and hard and told her that I honestly couldn't remember. She smiled this big smile and said, "Well. That means I did it right." I remember believing in Santa and I remember NOT believing in Santa, but the moment of transition was imperceptibly fluid. I don't remember finding out the truth about the Easter Bunny, either.

I agree with Mom - Christmas is a holiday where you as a parent get to, hell, are sanctioned by the state to lie your asses off to your kids. I can't wait - I'm gonna enjoy the pants off of that.