My reply to this thread brought back a childhood memory of my questioning of Saint Nick.
It's the usual story of a child not getting to sleep on X Mass eve, and being told by a his mother that if he didn't get to sleep like a good boy Father Christmas not coming down the chimney with his presents.
However, given that I was the child in question, my natural cynicism showed:
"But he can't come down the chimney, there's a gas fire in the way"
"Well he comes through the front door in our case"
"The front door can't be unlocked from the outside though"
"I meant the back door"
"But he would have to get over the bolted gate, that would wake me up"
"HE JUST COMES OK, GIVEN THAT HE HAS FLYING REINDEER GETTING INTO A HOUSE IS NO BOTHER"
At which point, I would give up out of fright more than anything else
This long dead memory kinda explains how I ended up such a twisted bitter cynic in later life!