Unless it was at a very early age and therefore relegated to the edge of the memories, I don't believe I ever believed in Santa Claus. It seems to me I recall viewing the whole thing as a "ritual" in commemoration of some long-ago event or person, and nothing more than that.
I was five years old, and my younger brother, three, when we happened to wander into the basement of our house alongside the Platte River of Nebraska. It was an easy basement to get into, and very large and spacious, but for whatever reasons, neither of us paid much attention to it.
We came across what appeared to be boxes of yet-to-be-assembled toys, but being brought up well, we didn't look any further than that, figuring we'd know soon enough anyway.