Family traditions make Christmas great
Christmas traditions are one of my favourite parts of the holiday season. The festive spirit that builds as Christmas approaches is largely down to excitement that we’re allowed to do things that would be weird or annoying any other time of the year.
Christmas carols on a loop, people decorating their houses with bright sparkling lights, cookies and milk being left out for Santa – it all adds to the atmosphere.
Christmas traditions are a big part of creating that atmosphere. Not only are they a heart-warming thing to have, they create happy memories (I hope).
In our household, we’ve established a few traditions over the years.
We have new spuds instead of roast potatoes for Christmas lunch, Mother Dearest makes at least five dozen mini Christmas mince pies, and Dad always gifts me and my sister a toothbrush, toothpaste and chewing gum.
Over the years, some of those traditions have evolved, such as the ‘‘no waking up Mum and Dad before 7am rule’’ has become ‘‘you have to get out of bed by 10am or Dad will eat the croissants for breakfast’’.
What’s nice about these traditions is that everyone in our family has contributed to them and, every so often, new traditions sow themselves into our festive ways.
Mother Dearest even tried to implement a new tradition this year: not putting up the Christmas tree.
That suggestion went to the same place where I assume Santa Claus keeps his list of bad children: in the trash.
Traditions, I think, are a big part of what makes holiday memories so cherished.
If you were to think back to the best Christmas you ever had, your favourite holiday season that you look back on with the fondest of memories, I’m almost sure it wouldn’t be your favourite because of the presents you received that year.
Mine is that of Christmas Day in 2000. Twenty-one members of my extended family jammed themselves into the drawing room (that’s a fancy word for formal entertaining space) of the Babington household to commence present opening.
Underneath the biggest tree I’d ever seen (after it had given me the biggest bout of hayfever), was the biggest pile of presents I’d ever seen.
Eight-year-old me reckoned there were 60 presents (I’d ‘‘counted’’) nestled underneath the pine needles. Looking back on pictures of that day, I now I realise my maths teacher at that point probably should have held significant concerns that I couldn’t count past 60, because there were at least four times that stacked in the cornucopia of gifts.
Ribbons and scraps of discarded paper were flying everywhere with children eagerly ripping into their growing bounties.
The only thing I remember getting was a children’s torch in the shape of a crocodile, whose mouth opened when you squeezed the trigger to activate the light.
I remember this for two reasons. 1. There’s a picture of me holding it with an unimpressed look on my face and, 2. Because my cousin got one in the shape of dolphin, and I really wanted that one instead of the crocodile, hence the unimpressed look in the photo.
Apart from that initial glee and the disappointing torch, I couldn’t tell you anything else about the presents that day.
Ignoring the fact it was 17 years ago and I’m decrepit, I think it was our traditions and having the people around us most that made it the best Christmas ever.
Ham sandwich leftovers on Boxing Day, my uncles and Dad all starting the first chapter of the new book they got in their haul of gifts and telling terrible jokes from the table Christmas crackers – it was a great occasion.
Christmas traditions really do make for the most wonderful time of the year.