Growing up, Christmas was marked by stockings stuffed with presents that mysteriously appeared at the end of my bed on Christmas morning. As I grew older I resisted the logic (spoiler alert) that led me to the conclusion there really was no Santa Claus — but to acknowledge this would result in the retirement of that stocking full of treats. In the end it was necessary to recognize this reality or seriously undermine other ideas I espoused as a worldly young man.
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