Remember when you were a kid and every year on Thanksgiving your family would …

And on every July 4th you would …

Can you fill in the blanks?

I’m sure if you can’t for those holidays, there are others where you had a standing family tradition. You looked forward to it, and the holiday was not complete without it. Then you went through a stage in your teens where you rolled your eyes at this tradition.

As you look back on your childhood, it’s those traditions you remember. It’s those traditions that make you smile and form the picture in your mind when the holiday comes up. It’s those traditions you talk about with anyone who will listen.

There’s no secret formula to forming those traditions – at least none I’m aware of. Sure, repetition seems like a needed ingredient. Sprinkle in some loved ones and fun. And well, I think you have a tradition.

I believe our Thanksgiving tradition will remain memorable for my children. My wife has made dinner for her family ever since her father’s last Thanksgiving, and he passed away nearly 30 years ago. It’s the one holiday that we know where we’ll be and who we will be spending it with.

The family has another Thanksgiving tradition: naming the turkey. That’s right: while eating the bird, everyone is given a slip of paper and a pen. They write a name on the paper, fold it up, and drop it into a hat (when someone has not been able to make Thanksgiving dinner, they’ve texted). The names are read aloud, and a winner is selected based on crowd reaction. Last year’s winner was Num Num, named by our great niece (those were her only words at the time).

My wife spends Thanksgiving morning cooking and watching March of the Wooden Soldiers, and the boys and I go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. This will be my oldest son’s seventh year of attendance and his brother’s third. We’ll point out our favorite floats, complain about the cold, and wish we were taller to get a better view.

But they love being in New York City.

They love taking the bus and train.

They love the snacks.

One day, my boys will be getting ready for Thanksgiving. Maybe they’ll be getting together for the holiday, like their mom and her sister. Maybe they’ll just be calling each other sometime during the day and sharing memories of naming the turkey, or trip to New York City. Either way, I’m happy and proud that we gave them this Thanksgiving tradition.

A version of this first appeared on Me, Myself and Kids. Photo: mgstanton via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

My wife worships Christmas.

Once the Thanksgiving dishes are done, it’s all Yule, all the time for her. Nothing but Christmas music in the car, Christmas movies on the television, and Christmas shopping on the weekends.

And she was like this BEFORE we had a kid. Now that he’s here, and he’s alive enough to begin to understand Santa and presents and cookies and the tree and all that, not only has my wife’s Christmas-loving resolve strengthened, but I no longer have a Scroogey cane to stand on.

Especially on Christmas Eve when there’s work to do!

This past Christmas the kid had a sense of what was happening, in that he enjoyed tearing the brightly colored wrapping paper off things that were handed to him. This year, he understands toys and seems to get the concept of presents. So it’s game on for the Wife!

Now that our kid is in the know, my wife’s Christmas obsession is in the stratosphere. She wants nothing more than to give our son a good Christmas, which means making sure all the TV he watches is Christmas-themed, all the songs he sings – and he does sing – are Christmas songs, and that he is indoctrinated into the (fraudulent) magic of Santa Claus.

He has been told who Santa is, can identify him in a lineup, and seems genuinely excited about him delivering presents overnight. So yeah, the kid is into the whole Santa Claus thing, so long as that “thing” doesn’t involve going anywhere near an actual person dressed as Santa Claus.

Of course, to complete the illusion, most of the gifts my son will be getting have been signed “From Santa” and, most importantly, none of them are under the tree before he goes to bed on Christmas Eve.

This means after he goes to sleep that night, a half-in-the-bag Daddy is forced to lug everything down from various hiding places throughout the house and down the stairs so that they will magically appear under the tree by the time he wakes up.

I am OK with it. Christmas magic hasn’t happened here in a while and the whole holiday had gotten pretty stale around here, but now that there’s a kid around, the holidays are re-energized, and that’s nice.

Provided I don’t break my neck carrying a huge wooden train set down the stairs.

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried.

He wanted me to say it was OK. But I wouldn’t.

I could have insisted. But I didn’t.

It was just less than two weeks until Thanksgiving. I was driving the boys to school, and I broached the topic.

Since BR was 6 years old, we have had the tradition to go to Manhattan on Thanksgiving to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. His younger brother, SJ, had been an attendee of the parade since he was 7.

In 2016, when he turned 12, BR decided he was not interested in going to the parade. At the time, I was surprised. Disappointed. Hurt.

But a year had passed. And while I asked the question of “Do you want to go to the parade?,” I was sure I knew the answer. I just hoped that SJ would also not answer in the negative.

However, both boys said yes. And quickly. I was excited.

As Thanksgiving drew closer and plans for the holiday came up, I made sure to mention I would be going to the parade with both of my boys.

I was excited to share the news. My oldest boy’s returning to go the parade felt like a reprieve. Yeah, he’s growing up and needs his own space, but on Thanksgiving, he wanted to go to the parade with his dad.

The night before the parade I called the boys down to make a game plan for the next day: when we would leave, what food we would eat, etc.

BR’s only question was, “When are we going to get home?”

“What are you worried about that for?”

“I just want to know when we’ll be home.”

“I don’t know. Like 1 o’clock I guess.”

SJ chimed in, “We’re going to go Starbucks like we did last year – right?”

“Yup. If that’s what you want.”

BR said, “Well, you can drop me off before that. I don’t want to go to Starbucks. I’d rather just come home.”

“What are you in such a rush for?”

“You know I don’t really want to go – right?”

“No, I don’t know. When I asked, you said you wanted to go.”

“I was just trying to make you happy. I don’t really like the parade.”

“So, you don’t want to go?”

“Not really. No.”

“Oh.”

“You understand right. I don’t like the parade. It’s kind of boring. All you do is stand there and look at floats.”

“Well, I guess you won’t go then.”

“You understand right? You don’t mind if I don’t go?”

“If you don’t want to go, that’s your call.”

SJ said, “So, it will just be the two of us – right dad?”

“Yup, I guess it will.”

When my wife came down and learned about the change in plans, she was disappointed. She was looking forward to some alone time as she prepared for the holiday. She encouraged our eldest to go and wanted me to join in, but I didn’t. He wanted me to say that I was fine with his situation, but I wouldn’t.

I enjoy parades. The excitement of the crowd puts me in a festive mood.

But that’s not why I’ve been keeping this holiday tradition of taking my children to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade all these years.

When I was younger my father took me to parades. I remember going to the Mummers Parade, a New Year’s Day parade in Philadelphia. My brother says we went to the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Maybe, we went to both. I don’t know. I also have no idea how many times we went.

It’s not about how many times we went or even what parade. I know I went, and I had fun. I know I went with my father and other family members.

So, while my memories of the exact moments are hazy, I remember the feelings clearly. It was fun being with my family at the parade and feeling like part of the parade.

Yeah, I’m into traditions, and I’m obsessed with trying to make memories with my children.

However, by forcing my son to go to the parade, it would dampen his past memories of the times we had there. I would be making him go for myself and not for him.

So, BR, my oldest, has moved on. He’s 13 and ready for a change. I get it. Hopefully, next year, we can find a new holiday tradition and create memories that he’ll fondly recall when he gets older.

A version of this first appeared on Me, Myself and Kids. Photo by Charley Lhasa on Foter.com / CC BY-SA. 

Every Christmas growing up, for as long as I can remember, our entire family would attend The Nutcracker ballet together. We would get dressed up and, my dad’s three brothers and their families also along, head into downtown Chicago to watch some Christmas magic.

As I kid, I really didn’t enjoy this. I had to wear dress pants and most likely some God-awful itchy sweater that my mom loved. However, what I did like was that we went as a big group to somewhere special. That was our time together.

We haven’t done this in forever. With us kids grown up and with families of our own, the logistics are mind-boggling. We can barely get together for Christmas day anymore as my family lives in entirely another state as do some of the uncles and aunts. I wish we could have some of the magic back.

And while I barely remember any specific presents I received for Christmas when I was a kid, I do remember those ballet trips the most out of all our family’s holiday memories. Why? Because of what my dad did after those outings.

It must have been around the time that stereo systems first came out with CD players because my dad was all about the Dolby Surround Sound. We all came home from the show one year, and he was filled with the spirit of the ballet and popped in his copy of the Nutcracker Suite.

He disappeared for a few moments as the music filled the house, only to reappear in the hallway dressed in his long underwear, twirling and spinning to his heart’s content. I never laughed so hard in my life and still chuckle just thinking about it. I am literally LOLing right now.

What I have taken away from this spectacle (and it was a sight to behold) is this: As a dad, you have to take advantage of times when you can make a fool of yourself for the benefit of your kids.

Growing up with three brothers, I didn’t have a lot of exposure to “girly” stuff so I am glad that as a father of daughters I get to have tea parties and dress up with them. For example, today we had a princess party and my 5-year-old told me I couldn’t come unless I was dressed like a princess. So I pop on a hot pink wig, boa feathers and a tiara. I think that I sufficiently fulfilled those requirements, don’t you think?

(Photo: Chris Bernholdt)

As always, it is all for my kids’ benefit. I am awesome at making a fool of myself for them and I am sure a lot of you other dads are as well.

A version of this first appeared on DadNCharge.

Here is a quick list of fun activities around Chicagoland for Chicago Dads to get involved with their kids over the Holiday Break.  We are sure there are more, we’d love to know what’s going on near you!

Christmas Around the World at the MSI

Dates: November 17, 2016 – January 8, 2017
Cost: Free (with admission)

This  tradition began at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry back in 1942. A Grand Tree (45 feet tall) in the Museum’s Rotunda stands amid a celebratory forest of over 50 trees decorated by volunteers from the many different ethnic communities around Chicago, showcasing their various cultures and holiday traditions. There are festive surprises all throughout the exhibit and you might just learn a thing or two to boot. While you are there you can check out all the other great exhibits like Brick by Brick, The Colleen Moore Fairy Castle, Where the Wild Things Are, The U-505 Submarine, and so many more.

Caroling at “The Bean” (Cloud Gate)

Millennium Park
Chicago
www.millenniumpark.org

Dates: November 25, 2016 – December 23, 2016
Cost: Free

Bundle up and get ready to belt out some holiday classics at these festive events that are part concert, part sing-along as local Chicago choral groups lead hundreds of celebrants in song. Santa Claus will join the crowd beforehand (5 pm), and after the music (6 pm), head a few steps away to take a spin on the McCormick Tribune ice rink.

Chanukah Wonderland

Northbrook Court
Northbrook
www.northbrookcourt.com

Date: December 18, 2016 – December 26, 2016
Cost: $5

Daily attractions

• Dreidel bouncehouse
• Decorate a doughnut
• Dreidel crafting
• Mosaic Menorah art
• Chanukah Tzedakkah box craft

Special Highlights
Tuesday, December 20 – Wrap for a cause: wrap for those in need
Monday, December 26 – Decorate a Chanukah Apron

Solstice Celebration

Crabtree Nature Center
Barrington
www.fpdcc.com

Date: December 21, 2016
Cost: Free

Celebrate the return of the sun while learning about the science and mythology surrounding the solstice, and enjoy a hot drink around a campfire. Call to reserve your spot (847-381-6592).

Animal Evidence

Date: December 22, 2016
Cost: Free

Learn about tracks, scat and other evidence animals leave behind, and then look for critters on a guided hike. Ages 5 and up with an adult. Register online or at (630) 933-7248.

1. Giving Santa All The Credit

My wife and I bust our collective asses providing for the children and making sure they have everything they need. When December 25 rolls around, I don’t want the fat guy in red stealing our thunder. We still talk about Santa and I play the game every time they say something like “How does Santa deliver all those toys around the world in ONE NIGHT?” or “How does Santa fit down our tiny chimney?”

Santa gives our kids toothbrushes and underwear, not the big-ass Lego set. Kids, this gift was made possible by a Danish factory and mommy’s hard work. Remember all those times she wasn’t here for dinner? These are blood Legos. Enjoy!

2. Elf on The Shelf

I don’t know what possesses people to put a creepy little doll around their house that effs everything up. I thought these things were supposed to keep your kids from being naughty. If you need a doll to get your kids to behave for one month leading up to Christmas, you have bigger problems on your hands. It’s not that these Elf on the Shelf packs are a special item either. You can go into any store and buy them. How do you explain to your kids that your elf is really a magical one and not an end-cap store special for a parent at the end of their holiday rope?

Moving a creepy doll around my house every day just to see the look on my kid’s faces as to why he moves? I can’t even remember to slip that dollar under the pillow like some nighttime ninja when the tooth fairy visits. My kids would have the laziest elf who never wanted to move around the house because he must like only that one spot. That’s an aggravation I don’t need.

3. Cutting Down Your Own Christmas Tree

My dad always meant well, trying to come up with Christmas traditions us kids would really remember. He succeeded in that this one was hard to forget. It always seemed that the best trees were miles from the Christmas tree farm’s main wrapping area and usually the snow was deep. I mostly remember being cold.

I know now why my dad went to a plastic tree and why, to make it more authentic, he would hang pine tree air fresheners. “Can’t tell the difference can you son?” he would say. No watering the tree, no sap, and certainly no squirrels in your living room.

4. Shopping at the Mall

No way in hell. From the parking to the massive amounts of people, shopping at the mall is everything I hate about the holiday season. The kids go loopy telling me they want every toy in the building, other parents’ screaming kids, and frantic parents trying to sneak toys into a bag when the urchins aren’t looking. No thank you.

Fighting people over an item that I can have delivered right to my door through Amazon by a guy in a delivery truck while I eat cookies in my pajamas sounds more fun.

5. Formal Christmas Photo

I won’t drag my family to a studio to snap a picture of us all in our matching sweaters. Besides, this is how it is going to go: The only people who will be looking at the camera will be me and my wife. Our three kids will all be looking in a different direction with my oldest son being closest to actually looking at the camera. My middle daughter will give us that creepy smile that isn’t a real smile, and the 3-year-old will look anywhere BUT the camera.

With digital photography being what it is today, I know I am going to have to Photoshop a head from another photo for each kid. I may even switch out the head from the school pictures just to ensure everyone is smiling.

6. Having My Kids Help Me With Christmas Lights

Maybe someday they will be up for it and I can make them climb on the roof like my dad let me do while he drank coffee  supervised from the ground. Someday I might even assign them the death-defying task of attaching the wooden Santa to the chimney.

For now, I like being out there myself applying all my dad taught me about outdoor illumination. Just a man and his 10,000 individual bulbs to check. I mean, my kids can’t even get a knot out of their sneakers so why would I trust them with the lights? No, this dad enjoys figuring out which of our 50 extension cords actually will handle the wattage for all our lights this year.

7. Caroling 

Of all the Christmas traditions, this is one better left to professionals who can actually carry a tune. I’m not freezing my keister off going from door to door to spread holiday cheer. I am that guy in church lip-synching to try to blend in with the guys belting out “Hallelujah” behind me. It’s not pretty.

If I show up at your doorstep trying to sing Jingle Bells off-key, I give you permission to slam the door and send me home for some hot chocolate. Also, if you come to my house, don’t be offended that I am not opening the door. I can hear you perfectly fine without letting all that icy winter air start up my furnace.

8. Getting A Picture With Santa

We all know how this goes. We build this up to be such a great thing and then we willingly have our kids sit on a strange man’s lap. Then we are surprised that they find this a scary situation.

I checked on Santa’s rates at the mall and he is charging $20 to $30 for you not to take pictures with your own camera. Sorry, but at $20 a head and three kids who want to tell this stranger what they want for Christmas when I already know, I’d rather blow that cash on ingredients to make Coquito and get myself liquored up on Christmas Eve instead.

So to these Christmas traditions, I say: Bah humbug!

A version of this first appeared on DadNCharge.

I fly back to my hometown of Boulder, Colo., every Memorial Day weekend to run in its annual 10k race. While I’m sure the “Bolder Boulder” race began as an actual competitive event, it’s transformed into a mobile festival that winds through the city’s most beautiful neighborhoods. My husband and I have participated in it every spring since we first met. My daughter, now 14, started joining us later with this past event making it three years in a row the three of us ran together. It has become an official family tradition.

As a recently crafted family, we’ve been building these family traditions one ritual at a time. We celebrate the end of the week each Friday with burgers at our favorite restaurant. We have certain songs we now listen to each December when we decorate our Christmas tree. We hike up to our favorite scenic view spot every year on my daughter’s birthday. And now, every May, we run this race.

Some family traditions are tougher to maintain than others as we move further into my girl’s teen years. We used to play frequent card games together after dinner, but now she’d rather disappear into her room for the evening. We used to love to sing boisterously to the radio together in the car, but now she prefers to block us out with her own earbuds in the backseat.

But despite her growing independence and predictable self-imposed adolescent separation from us, my daughter loves running the Bolder Boulder with us.

She shouldn’t. It involves several things for which she has total disdain: athletic activity, getting up early, and being around people she doesn’t know. Anyone who knows her would expect her to detest a 10k.

And yet.

Family traditions start on your marks

On race day, we wake, stretch, eat a light breakfast, pin on our numbers, and have a relative drive us to the starting line where we join thousands of people — many in costume — eager to kick off their heat of the race.

My daughter grins ear to ear. Her mood is bright. She lets me take selfies with her as we get closer to our start time. She laughs at my husband’s jokes. She waves at the local TV news crews filming from the sidelines.

During the race itself, she maintains the attitude of a champion, as we alternate between running and walking, threading our way along a race course flanked by rock bands, belly dancers and Elvis impersonators.

She paces herself like a pro, never balking when we pick up a little speed at each mile marker. The girl even shows a rare willingness to high-five strangers on the sidelines who are out to show support. On race day, she puts away her teenage angst for a few hours and becomes this luminous, long-limbed gazelle girl with her ponytail streaming behind her, face shining.

I watched her this year, as our sneakers slapped the pavement together and we ran through town. This girl, my girl, who prefers to have most of our conversations lately with her closed bedroom door between us. This girl who can barely get through a sentence at dinner some days without a professional-grade Sarcastic Eye Roll. This girl who wouldn’t give me any details about her school day when she gets home if I held her at gunpoint.

Why does this race make her feel such open, unabashed joy?

It’s not the running. It’s not a need to compete. So … what is it?

I would ask her, but I don’t want to jinx it. (I tend to be the king of that: experiencing a nice moment with someone, and then ruining it with talking and questions and overanalysis.)

Plus, I don’t need to ask her. I think already know.

Her family structure was reshuffled several years ago, which is tough on any kid but probably especially so on one whose father divorced her mom, came out as gay and then remarried a man. But through all the changes she’s been through, my daughter knows she is surrounded by love and support. Even on her most temperamental day, she knows she has a father and stepfather who are with her, all the time, all the way. With her at the starting line, with her at the finish line. It’s true on race day every spring, and it’s true in her life.

This year, as always, we started our race together. We also finished it together, crossing the line at the end in the middle of a stadium with crowds cheering. As we did, I looked up and caught a glimpse of us on the Jumbotron screen: my daughter in the middle, her dads on either side, shoulder to shoulder, holding hands up high, cheering for our own victory.

It looked how it felt: good, strong, reassuring. It felt like something to be proud of.

That’s why my daughter loves the race.

I get it, of course. That’s why I love it, too.

Family traditions photo courtesy of Seth Taylor.

Editor’s Note: Last week’s guest column about teaching faith to children sparked a great response, in agreement and opposition. NYC Dads Group member Josh Kross offers his take on his parenting without God.

I teach my children to be grateful for the world without needing to find responsibility for it. We have a tremendous gift in the universe, and it doesn’t matter why. The universe is not for us or by us. The universe just is, and that is all the explanation we need.

+ + +

When he was 7, my oldest child walked out of his room and said, “You know those books I read? The ones with the Egyptian and Greek and other myths? How come so many of the stories are the same?”

“Why do you think?” I asked.

“Either all the different stories are by the same people, or they are just the kind of stories people like to hear,” he said.

The discussion went on. My son asked questions about why and how things are and I answered about the Big Bang, evolution and so on, trying to keep it simple and yet still challenge his mind to ask more questions — to challenge assumptions. Soon it became apparent this would be one of the prouder moments of my fatherhood experience.

He concluded right then, on his own, something that took me about 15 years longer to decide. My son became an atheist.

We are not a family without tradition. We are Jewish by ethnicity, and our family practices ritual and does certain things we believe bind us to our heritage. We talk about what stories mean and how it is important to remember where and who you come from. My children will have bar and bat mitzvahs as a sign of respect to this, but with an understanding that being grateful is enough in and of itself — knowing the world and the universe are a gift to us all without needing a reason for its existence.

A few years later, my son came home from public school with a story, one I frankly wouldn’t have believed had it not been corroborated. A child asked him if he believed in Jesus. My son said nope. When told that he would go to hell and meet the devil if he didn’t, my son replied “that’s OK, I don’t believe in him either.” I told my son he did well defending himself without denigrating the other child’s stance. He handled it with the skill of someone who respects others because they deserve respect even if they disagree.

My atheism does not mean I raise my kids without wonder, without respect for things greater than we are, or without morals. Heck, it doesn’t even mean I raise them with atheism. It means I raise my children to question how things work. To know that even if they don’t understand things, that things work how they work for a reason, even if it is a reason not evident to them. Not a reason that necessarily has thoughtful design in it, but that things happen and we can be happy or sad or angry or scared or anything else and that all of those are OK, regardless of why things happen.

A previous post on the City Dads Group blog posed the following question to the “unfaithed” like me and my son: “To whom do you give thanks?” I would like to answer that as follows.

I teach my children to be grateful for the world without needing to find responsibility. We have a tremendous gift in the universe, and it doesn’t matter why. The universe is not for us or by us. The universe just is, and that is all the explanation we need.

I teach my children to appreciate the beauty and magic that 14 billion years or so of post-Big Bang history has brought us to this point.

I teach my children they should be good, kind, sharing and loving (and almost all of the rest of the Boy Scout law) because those things are objectively positive.

I teach my children that all people need to be respected and have their place in the world. That the Golden Rule, Karma, Hammurabi’s code, or You Get What You Give, and everything else essentially get at one simple truth that no one needs god(s) to see:

If you want to be loved and cared for, if you know how you’d like the world to be and you act toward that outcome, and everyone wants and acts the same, we’ll all be better off regardless of what you do or don’t believe.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Josh Kross, an NYC Dads Group member, is an at-home dad to his three kids. He engineers and produces The Modern Dads Podcast and the critically acclaimed hip-hop podcast, The Cipher. Photo for Parenting without God: Cross in pieces via photopin (license)

Kids grow up, get married, and start families of their own. At that point, if not much earlier, kids start to become detached from their parents. Phone conversations become less and less frequent. They see each other even less. It’s understandable, but no less tragic.

Parents invest so much in you as youngsters – time, money, energy, worry and love. They drive you to soccer games scheduled way too far away from home, drop you off at the movies with your friends (and even return to pick you up despite not getting a “thank you” two hours prior) and “loan” you more money than they probably should, knowing full-well the odds are stacked against them ever seeing it paid back. Family dinners, always hot (although never the mashed potatoes) and mostly delicious. Quarters for the arcade. Cover the deposit on your first new car. Paint the living room of your first house. Never show up empty-handed when visiting your kids or refuse to host them for a sleepover so that you and your wife can head to the city to see your favorite band or go out to dinner as a couple.

In a perfect world, we’d never stray very far from those two people, but as is often the case, the world is far from flawless.

It’s why my family’s Christmas tradition is so special to my parents, myself, my two older brothers and, I hope, to all of our kids. Every year we assemble as a family at my parents’ home, We watch football, enjoy my mother’s homemade turkey soup (made with turkey leftover from Thanksgiving) and, ultimately, to decorate their Christmas tree.

I’m not sure how many adult kids help to decorate their (able-bodied) parents’ tree each year, but we do. It’s one of the best days of the holiday season.

We all have our jobs on this day. The middle son strings the lights. I, the youngest but tallest, am in charge of the star, a task that now primarily involves me lifting one of the lucky grandchildren up high and hoping we don’t fall into the tree together. My oldest brother, well, no one is quite sure what his job is on this day. I think it’s been years since he actually hung an ornament in their house. If I remember correctly, he used to hang just one each year, but I’m not sure he does that anymore. If so, it happens fast when no one is around.

Really though, the bulk of the work has been handed down to the seven grandkids. They now carry on the Christmas tradition of selecting the best branches to hang the shiny maroon and gold balls, fancy ribbons and teddy bear ornaments.

I’m not sure what the future will hold for this Christmas tradition or for us as a family. However, I’m thankful for every year we still can all be together decorating a fresh Douglas fir in my parent’s living room. This year, thanks to a tripod I didn’t know we owned and a wife who figured out how to use the timer feature on our camera, we managed to pull off a family portrait in front of that tree. The tree is barely visible behind us – which is appropriate. As much as this Christmas tradition is about decorating that tree, what it’s really about is all of us spending a day together, being merry, and showing our young kids (a.k.a., the next generation of moms and dads) what it means to love and to be a real family. The tree is just a symbol, the excuse to make all this happen.

A version of this first appeared on Out with the Kids. Christmas tradition photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash.