A Visit From St. Nick

I have a friend, a real friend, not just one of the “I have 437 facebook friends”, that asked people what their family Christmas traditions were. Okay, she did ask it on facebook, but she has been a friend since long before facebook.

It is kind of a neat idea and I like to see how other people celebrate a holiday that I love so much. Some of the traditions are, well, traditional and some are a little off centre, but they all have meaning to the people involved. Unfortunately, my tradition doesn’t include posting my traditions on facebook. Well, maybe it will this year, but I will have to see.

One of the people who responded said their favourite Christmas memory was having their daddy read “Twas the Night Before Christmas” and “Frosty the Snowman” to them on Christmas eve. That’s is so nice and I imagine if she closes her eyes, she can hear his voice, smell his scent and feel the comfort of his arms around her. I can almost feel it when I close my eyes, and it’s a little disturbing for me.

 

I am a sap when it comes to these made for TV Christmas movies. They are all pretty much the same; a single mom/dad has lost their belief in the magic of Christmas and somehow their young boy/girl manages to bring the magic back to them. Usually there is a magical being that may or may not have lost his memory and the very fabric of Christmas could be destroyed if the kid doesn’t learn how to believe. There is a point during the movie (Christmas Eve) when the mom/dad/aunt/uncle will sit down with the kid and read “Twas the Night Before Christmas”. The camera will pan away and when it comes back, the child is in blissful sleep just as Santa is saying “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

Now, I love the poem and have read it to my kids on Christmas Eve as well. However, with my kids and I suspect most real world kids, they are so wired that nothing short of a heavy dose of horse tranquilizer would put them to sleep. Certainly not a 177 year old poem that takes less than four minutes to read. Even with lots of pictures and three candied up nutbars asking all sorts of questions, it still comes in at under ten minutes. It is a nice tradition though.

 

My daughter is out for Christmas this year and we are going to see the last instalment of The Hobbit (Battle of the Five Armies) tonight. We don’t have any little kids around so it seemed appropriate somehow. Maybe when I get back, I will sit beside her and read our copy of “A Visit From St. Nick” to her. I’ve got three minutes to spare for tradition.