Untraditional Traditions, The One We Never Repeated

For at least the last twenty years, Santa comes to our house on Christmas Eve morning. That's correct, December 24 ... crack of dawn.

It was a tradition that started out of necessity and just continued because of the convenience. And much like Ronda, we told our children that Santa always delivered to his favorites first.

One particularly hectic Christmas, I was behind schedule. Alright, to say I was further behind schedule than usual would be a more accurate statement.

By 2:15 a.m. on December 24th:

* I had wrapped the last present

* I took a Santa-sized bite out of a frosted cookie

* Drank an appropriate amount of Santa's lukewarm eggnog

* Presents semi-neatly arranged under the tree (it had to look like Santa rushed and not lingered)

* Tree lights turned on

At this point I could have crawled into bed.

At this point I should have crawled into bed.

But I didn't.

Instead, my sleep-deprived, pre-menstrual inner child decided it would be fun to run through the house screaming, "He's been here, he's been here! Santa was here."

In My Mind:

Why should I lay down for about three hours and have a posse of kids wake me up? Wouldn't it be fun to turn the tables and wake them up when they least expect it? Let them see what it feels like to be jolted from slumber by someone screaming about Santa?

In The Real World:

I did run through the upstairs screaming, "He was here, Santa was here!" I had teens staring at my like I lost my mind. I had pre-teens squinting. I had a really confused husband. Very slowly, one by one they trickled to the first floor. Very slowly they curled up under blankets on the couches. Without much enthusiasm they opened gifts. They remained dazed and confused until they became crabby and intolerable. They went from sleepy, heavy lidded children to holy terrors on this Holiest of all Holy Days.

 

The rest of that day was a blur for me. What seemed like a brilliant idea was more of a brain fart than anything else. I, too, remained dazed and confused until I became crabby and intolerable.

I think the best part about that particular Untraditional Tradition is the ammunition my two oldest children will have for the rest of their lives. Every Christmas since it has been brought up at my expense. Sure, the story has been embellished to the point that it is difficult to uncover the reality that lies within and I have no idea how they became such proficient storytellers.

Do you have an untraditional tradition you would like to share? I am having an easy to enter give away. Click here for more information!




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