HOW DID YOU REALIZE THAT THERE WAS NO SANTA CLAUS?

There's no horrifying tale involving a mall Santa or a sibling being mean to me. I just cracked the case like a juvenile gumshoe.
  1. Like every other child, I used to put out milk and cookies for Santa. When I got old enough to pour the milk myself, I loaded up Santa with about 20 ounces. Glug. Glug. My Dad chimed in, "Santa isn't that thirsty." Had it been bourbon instead of milk, I probably would have believed until I was 13 and my Dad would have had a hangover.
  2. My mother would label all the gifts. Some were from my parents and others were from Santa. One Christmas, I realized that not only did my Mom and Santa share an affinity for using yellow legal paper, but they had the same handwriting.