Believing in Santa becomes a bit ridiculous after you turn about eight. The idea of some overweight old dude flying around the world thanks to magic reindeers, shimmying down a few million chimneys and making it back to the North Pole without having a heart attack or getting his red suit filthy with soot just doesn't add up.
At the same time I was learning about Santa I also learned about Jesus. This guy could convert water to wine and wine to blood. He could walk on water, feed large crowds of people, heal the sick and rise from the dead. Like Santa he also had the ability to know if I'd been bad or good but he was somehow even more magic.
When I came to realise Santa was bullshit I got to thinking the miracles of Jesus might be some elaborate made up stories too. For some reason however there were lots of grown ups who seemed to believe in Jesus. It was like they were crushed by the utter disappointment of Santa not being real and couldn't face another magic man being exposed.
I think I'd be more inclined to believe in Jesus if there wasn't the possibility he was just a magician who was ahead of his time. I also might be more inclined to believe in Jesus if I hadn't been lied to about Santa.