Christmas traditions

Its Saturday and I have a few short days before Christmas hits. Next Sunday I'll be hosting dinner for my family. Twenty-one of us in all. We've done this before so it isn't any surprise to us; I know what to expect but nonetheless I really need to get a few things done before next week.

So, as I made my list today of things to do: Pick up baking supplies, print out Christmas letters, finish making gifts, wrapping gifts, make gingerbread house - I realized how much of this 'stuff' I do is so important to my kids.

When I was a child, there was such a magic about Christmas. It wasn't the gifts and we certainly didn't get many - just one from our mom and dad and one from Santa Claus. Occasionally my gramma would get me something and there was no extended family. My children are utterly spoiled at Christmas but despite that - they are grateful and not greedy.

But one Christmas I remember sitting under the tree. We put it in the living room by the porch and I sat on the linoleum and just looked at each present while the lights shone on me. And there under the tree was a small box, wrapped but unmarked.

I asked my father - who's gift was this? And he said - oh, that one is for you.

My father had gotten me a gift! Not a gift from my mother and father, not a gift for my sisters and me - just me, me alone, I had gotten a gift from my dad.

It was unusual to say the least and I was thrilled!!

On Christmas Eve - as was our tradition - we opened gifts after having a formal supper. I can't remember what my other present was that year but I do remember opening the small box from my father and inside was a box of Black Magic chocolate. Just a small one, just a few chocolates - but I was so thrilled; and I didn't even like chocolate.

Years later, I remember coming across the Black Magic box in our box room (the room in the basement where my mother kept every box 'just in case') and all the fond memories flooded back.

And years later when my father died, I kept that memory of the little box of chocolates in a safe place in my heart.

And then I grew up and had a family of my own and one year at Christmas I sat around the table with my mother and some others and I told them the story of the chocolates and how special they were to me; that my father had thought of just me one year. My mother snorted and said - oh those! Eh, someone at the office gave it to him and he brought it home and put it under the tree.

I was...devastated.

She looked at my shocked face and said quietly - oh, I thought you knew. I'm sorry.

And then - I laughed.

Because how could I not have known?? I was an adult now, I had children myself - if I was going to buy a gift for a child, would I pick a box of Black Magic chocolates? Would I leave off the tag? Would I only buy one if I had three children? Of course that was it - but all these years, even into adulthood, I'd *believed* it.

I try to remember that when I look at my children eagerly anticipating something at Christmas. These things are becoming part of their history and part of who they are - even if they seem tedious or simple to me.

So, with that - I will go get ready and we will go shopping and then come home and spend a great day together.