It all started as a joke…but now it has become a tradition. My daughter and I have a game we play each year before Christmas, involving the three Kings from our Nativity set. I’ll explain how it started and what it’s become in a bit, but first a little background is necessary.
“A love for tradition has never weakened a nation, indeed it has strengthened nations in their hour of peril.”
— Winston Churchill
We all have traditions. They are part of what makes each family unique, while at the same time, they bind us together with other families or groups, or even as a part of the human race. And no time of year is more laden with tradition than December. Some have been around for generations. Some you may have even attempted to start within your own family. When you got married, your wife came with the traditions she’d grown up with and you brought the ones you grew up with. Some you cherished; others you vowed would end—never to return or even be mentioned to your wife and kids. Regardless of where they came from or your feelings about them, at some point—pretty early in the marriage if you wanted to maintain peace—you had to discuss which traditions your family would keep and which ones you would let go.
My family celebrates Christmas. Growing up in an Irish Catholic family with seven siblings, my parents had some strict rules governing Christmas traditions.
- We didn’t decorate the house or put lights up until Christmas Eve.
- The kids hung one—and only one—ornament on the tree. “Santa” finished decorating the tree. In later years, the older siblings became “Santa’s” Helpers, taking some of the load off of our parents.
- We did everything in age order, one at a time: Hanging Stockings, Hanging our ornament, Opening presents.
- We read four stories: Two from the Bible (Luke 2:1-20 and John 1:1-14), “Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus” and “’Twas the Night Before Christmas”.
- We went to bed. We went to sleep. We were told if we tried to stay up, “Santa won’t come to our house.”
- Christmas morning, we lined up on the stairs—in age order. We were NOT allowed to go into the living room until every child was awake and in position. Then, and only when my father said it was okay, could we go into the living room.
You can imagine how long it took to open presents with eight kids, one at a time, in age order. We’d open our stockings first, then take a break for breakfast. We’d open one present from under the tree. We’d go to Mass. We’d return to continue opening presents. My mother would pull bread apart into a large bowl for the stuffing which would go into the turkey. We’d pause for cooking, lunch, bathroom breaks, dinner, etc… Opening presents took up most of the day, sometimes into the evening. It took a long time. There were times when I hated some of those traditions. I wanted to open all of my presents right away. I didn’t want to wait.
Years later, I spent Christmas at a girlfriend’s house. She was an only child. Christmas was still a few days away when I arrived, but everything was set up. Their tree was up and decorated. Presents were already arrayed underneath. Stockings were hung and filled. On Christmas morning, we all got up and went downstairs—no waiting on the stairs for her dad to give permission. As soon as we went into the living room, she started tearing into her stocking, then proceeded on to the presents under the tree. I remember sitting on the couch with one of the presents they’d gotten me, still unwrapped, watching her rip open present after present, barely pausing to acknowledge what the gift was, never mind who had given it to her. I don’t remember if she or her parents finally noticed that I hadn’t opened my present yet, but someone said something about it and she paused briefly and looked at me, asking why I hadn’t opened the gift. I explained how we did things a little differently in my family, so she stopped her rampage through the packages and watched as I unwrapped my present. I thanked them for the gift, and after that brief respite, the tornado returned and wrapping paper flew through the air once again. Once she’d opened all of her gifts, that was it. It could’ve been any other day. That was the moment when I first appreciated the traditions my parents had established and maintained throughout the years. I realized that the anticipation, the “having to wait”, was what created and added to the Magic of Christmas. The opening of one gift at a time allowed gratitude to shine forth for the ones who’d given the gift. Each gift and each gift giver was acknowledged and appreciated. When I got married and had my own kids, that experience helped define the traditions that our family follow each Christmas.
My wife, grew up in a smaller family. They had their traditions as well:
- They started decorating their house the day after Thanksgiving.
- They placed presents under the tree as they were purchased and wrapped.
- They opened one present on Christmas Eve.
- They did open presents one at a time, but not in a particular order.
- Presents inside Stockings were NEVER wrapped, ‘cause Santa doesn’t wrap presents.
After we got married, we had to discuss which of these traditions we would keep and which would fade away. There were others as well, but these were the ones that needed to be discussed, as these were the ones that were different. It was time to determine what our family traditions would be. We also created some new ones that have stuck—a few which were met with rolling eyes by our children as they entered their teenage years.
Which brings us back to the Three Kings…
Several years ago, when decorating the house, my daughter was setting up our Nativity scene and I mentioned that the Three Kings weren’t actually there the night Jesus was born, but were still traveling from the east and probably didn’t arrive until weeks, months, or even a year or more afterwards. She made some sort of snarky comment in reply—she was 14 or 15 at the time and had inherited my sense of humor—so, later that day, I moved the Three Kings to the eastern most room in our house and lined them up as if they were on a journey. She rolled her eyes when she saw them, but also laughed, then returned them to the Nativity scene. So, I lined them up outside her door after she went to bed, scaring her a little bit when she emerged from her slumber the next morning.
And then it was on….
Rather than putting them back in their “rightful” place, she hid them. That night it was my turn to receive a shock as I climbed into bed, for there they were—under the covers. We spent the remaining several days up until Christmas hiding the Kings in various places around the house.
It was fun. It was educational. It was a little silly. But it was also something that bonded us together, father and daughter. And that could’ve been that. Until the following year, when I chose to do it again. She was reticent at first, but then she got into it. I mean IN TO IT. My daughter’s pretty competitive—I have NO IDEA where she got that trait, but don’t worry, I have a plan to get it back…. She hid them well. So well, that I actually had to ask her once where they were and explain that the point of the game wasn’t to stump the other person, but to hide them in an easily discoverable, hopefully comical place, so the game could continue. I think she thought I was upset because she “beat me”, and I was changing the rules so I could win. But, actually, it’s not a competition. It’s a fun activity for Christmas. Something to share. Something I hope will be passed on to my grandchildren and their children, and so on…and become a tradition.
It’s only been about four or five years since we first did it and there were a couple years when she was “done”. Didn’t want to do it anymore. But, I persisted. I kept it going. This year, her second year in college, I got the opportunity to scare her again by lining them up outside her door the night after she’d first set up the Nativity set. No eye roll. No, “Daa-aaadd…” She laughed. And then she hid them. And the game is ON!
Traditions are like habits. They don’t endure unless you do them consistently, every year. They are choices we make that become inevitable. And the best ones get carried on through centuries to the point where many don’t even know how or when they got started. But I’ll bet many of them came about because some Dad persisted in doing it year after year after year… That’s one of our jobs as Dads. It’s also one of the joys of Dadhood. We get to decide the traditions our families will follow. We also get to create traditions unique to our families. And if we’re persistent, they might just endure well beyond us.
What are some of the traditions from your childhood that you still cherish today?
What are some of the traditions you’ve started with your kids?
Please share your traditions in the comments. You might inspire another Dad to start something similar in his family.
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. And, Happy Dadding!
While I was Dreaming of Sleep 