I always knew there was no Santa Claus. What I mean by that is, I knew no fat guy was squeezing himself down the world's chimneys on December 24th. Every Christmas Eve I was told by my parents that a certain room in the house was forbidden to enter: usually it was there bedroom. For two hours you'd hear nothing but the sounds of torn paper, boxes being "rolled" on the floor, scissors cutting, and tape being dispensed. The cookies left out for Santa happened to be the same my father liked. You get the picture. I was wise. But I was still stunned Christmas morning. There was always an avalanche of gifts under the tree. That's not to say I don't believe in the spirit of St. Nick now. It can grab hold and open the heart of the stingiest miser every yuletide season.
But, it was a different story with the Easter Bunny. There was no way that guy wasn't real. What's that? You think that's funny? Take a look at the proof smart guy!...
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