I think Santa Claus is a good idea. I think it's good for kids to have something big and mysterious to believe in. I think it's an aid to imagination and creativity. It's how you handle things when the kid "finds out" that makes the difference. The trick, for me, was that my parents encouraged me to feel that everyone is a little bit of Santa Claus, that I was part of this mysterious and benevolent secret society that gives gifts because making other people happy feels good.

There's a difference between a fiction and a lie, even if you happened get the two confused at precisely the wrong moment in your life (and it sounds like perhaps your mother was confusing them somewhat, too).

And maybe it's key to gently break the news, if the kid hasn't found out already, by the age of about six. Seven or eight is on the cusp of "pre-teen," an age where kids are likely to feel betrayed by big reversals like that, as opposed to younger kids, who are still learning so voraciously that they tend to just accept things.

Of course, another thing to consider is that Jess does occasionally interact with other kids. Regardless of what you teach her, other kids will believe in Santa. And I know it sounds weird, but what if, entirely opposite the possibility that she'll spoil things for other kids, what if the other kids convince her of Santa's truth? As I said, I think believing in something big and mysterious is good for kids, and I think they'll do it whether you want them to or not - whether it's Santa and the Easter Bunny, or an imaginary friend, or monsters in the closet. (I never believed in imaginary friends or monsters under the bed, actually... though for a time, I pretended to do both. How peculiar is that?)

I know I haven't actually answered anything. Raised even MORE questions, probably. I'm just thinking aloud, really. Sorry about that. It's just one of those highly ponderable thoughts.

I had monsters, and imaginary friends, and animals that I just *knew* could converse in English but chose not to talk to me because I was a human, and stuffed animals that would come to life eventually if I loved them *very very* much. I believed in Santa, and that was part of the magic of Christmas, completely aside from the religious aspects which were a separate sort of wonder for me. (There's sort of a "secular" Christmas and a "religious" Christmas for me... don't ask me why I compartmentalize, but I do.) For that matter, there's still that one year I was sick and stayed home from the evening church service (when Santa's gifts would magically appear in the house), and I had decided to lie on the couch RIGHT NEXT TO the tree... I would swear I never did more than nap, and I heard the garage door open when they came home, and yet... anyway. I'm not sure I was ever sat down and had the sad truth revealed... I think I went from believing that it was Santa, to believing that all parents were automatically deputized into being Santa's helpers.

I agree with Liz's summation, and would add that I think part of the problem might've been your mother's insistence that getting nice things for Christmas HAD to come with believing in Santa... if I got nothing but socks as soon as I "grew up," I probably would have gotten disenchanted pretty quickly, too. I mean... parents can't make magic happen sometimes, too? Then again, there's a lot more to believing in God that "do it or you'll go to Hell," but that's a whole 'nother essay.

My parents perpetuated the myth for my sister and I. I've forgotten how old Lynne and I were when everyone came clean, and for that matter, whether it was my parents deciding that Lynne and I were old enough to know, or Lynne coming home from school having heard the truth from another kid. What I do remember is several years earlier hearing my parents look for a quarter for the tooth Lynne had just lost. In that moment it all clicked and I KNEW that my parents where Santa, and the Easter Bunny, and of course, the Tooth Faerie. But I kept my mouth shut. I used to say for Lynne's sake, but I'm not sure that's the actual reason.

My grasp on Santa Claus was always either insanely zealous or highly tenuous, except for this one- or two-year period when I was around eight or nine. My parents always told me that "Santa is in your heart". I'd either think that "Santa is whatever" or "Santa lives at the North Pole and my parents are lying to me".

Now I understand that everyone is Santa Claus, that Santa is this essence of hoarding and spending things on people you appreciate for the hell of it and because everyone else is doing it. But I don't know how I'd explain this if I ever had children.

Obviously we never did the Santa Claus thing at my house and I don't think we were the worse for it... but I do remember getting geld from "the tooth fairy." Thirty-six cents. It had been eighteen, but inflation... :-/

You don't mention who takes what orientation on the T.P. roll, but we'll look at two simple facts: printed paper doesn't make any sense for "down the wall" hangers (since it's the back of the paper you're looking at). And if you have kids in the house, it's easy (and several seconds worth of fun, believe me) for them to spin the roll empty for "over the top".

So ... IMHO the right way is over the top, but the kid-safe method is down the wall.

Oh, I'm a down the back of the wall type and it's for one simple reason - as a short person, it's easier for me to direct the amount of tissue I want pulling it from the underside and tearing it one-handed, rather than having to do this two-handed acrobatics in order to not spin off an extra five feet.