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It’s a tired old story, probably. Adults who have long lived away from their immediate family and who aren’t religious lose touch with any warmth they once harbored in their hearts for their childhood holiday traditions. In this case, the tradition I’m referring to is the secular, Americanized Christmas, characterized by bringing a real live tree into the house (despite your Scroogish father’s vocal protestations), drinking enough over-nutmegged eggnog to feel queasy, and watching a handful of classic TV specials, including the 1964 “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and the 1966 MGM “Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Then, these 30-something Grinches have children of their own, and once those children hit the age of 3 and become infected by Christmas Magic, they’re forced to remember that they were once susceptible to that enchantment themselves.
I seem to have inherited my dad’s scrooge-like tendencies, and if it weren’t for the fact that Mr Baier requires me to listen to Christmas music for all of December, I would have lost touch entirely with the Christmas spirit. Enter Cormac, age 3. Before this year our son was relatively oblivious to the holiday, so we haven’t really stepped up our celebration habits except for our brief visits to our parents’ homes at the end of the month. But last weekend, after witnessing the wonder written across his small face when we visited One Link to shop for a plastic tree and trappings, it seems that my “small heart grew three sizes” (Seuss, 1957). On December 1 we broke out the Christmas kids’ books (Dr. Seuss and Richard Scarry), and Cormac now requires at least two readings of The Grinch before bed every night. My mastery of the Grinchish voice and sneer have, ironically, caused the magic to infect me as well, and this weekend I’m going to show him the video for the first time.
What childhood traditions have you left behind? Let us know below—and don’t be afraid to revive them, at least for a few weeks every year.
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