Gobbling Up Holiday Traditions

There’s nothing like the holidays.

And when it comes to traditions, seeing them through the eyes of children means capturing the wonder, the excitement, and the humor in the rituals we hold dear.

Looking back, our kids were barely old enough to talk when they began scrutinizing our holiday traditions.

“Why do we have to cut faces in our pumpkins?” One of the twins, asked, plucking seeds from the debris scattered across the counter clad with soaked newspaper.

Pulling my head from the hollow shell of a giant gourd—my arms coated in orange goo—I was wondering the same thing. Still, I managed to stammer a convincing, “Because it’s . . . it’s fun!”

The other twin’s eyes grew wide. “Is that why we get to run in the dark and ask strangers for candy? ‘Because it’s fun?’”

“Uh, something like that.”

For their first two Halloweens, the twins didn’t pay much attention to the costumes we dressed them in. But when they turned three, their big brother suggested a costume idea the three of them could do together, and I agreed without considering how the twins might react.  

“Why do we have to wear our pajamas to go tricker-treating?” Randy asked, as I helped him into his bright orange and yellow-striped long-johns.

“For tonight, they aren’t your pajamas. They’re your costumes.”

Just then, Jason waltzed into the room donning a tall red and white hat, polka-dot bow tie, and whiskers -- a very handsome Cat in the Hat. “Are the twins ready?”

“Almost.” I was frantically pinning labels to their backs.

“But what am I?” Randy twisted around, trying to see what was attached to his shirt.

Big sister, Jessica, stood in the doorway and answered all matter-of-fact. “You’re Thing One and Christopher is Thing Two.”

I cringed, expecting a loud protest from the unsuspecting pair, but they just shrugged, grabbed their buckets and charged for the door.

“Candy!”

In her teens, Jessica chose to forgo door-to-door treat gathering to stay home and hand out tricks instead. Clothed in a checkered flannel stuffed with newspaper and a crumpled brown paper sack over her head, she sat slumped on a chair near the front door, where she waited for unsuspecting trick-or-treaters who thought she was a fake scarecrow. Her lap held the bowl of candy with a note that read: TAKE ONE.

When little kids came up, she talked soothingly, encouraging them to take a piece—even then, some were not sure. But when older kids came to the door, she waited very still for them to  approach the bowl, read the note, and reach for a piece of candy. That’s when she’d move and the treat-seekers would startle, jump, or scream.

Then they’d all have a good laugh.

But when a certain pair of boys marched up on the porch and saw the unattended dish of candy, they thought they’d hit the jackpot. “Look! Let’s take the whole bowl.”

Just as they reached for it, she jumped and said, “Boo!”

So surprised, they tumbled backward and stumbled over each other to get off the porch—their guilty consciences getting the better of them—as they ran down the street.

As a kid myself, I remember Halloween as a fun-filled time with spooky decorations and a chance to overdose on sweets, as candy was a real treat in our home. Back then, our neighborhoods were so safe, as a fourth-grader, I was allowed to trick-or-treat with my friends in the dark without any adult supervision. The only thing we were told to fear were razor blades in the apples. No problem. I wasn’t interested in an apple, anyway! I was all about chocolate bars and Smarties, sweet and tart confectionary goodness.

Back then, homemade haunted houses were also popular. People would set up spooky rooms in their houses with glow-in-the-dark paint and invite trick-or-treaters to walk through, and none of us hesitated. I still remember one house with some pretty horrific scenes involving weapons and an immense amount of ketchup that left an indelible mark on my young mind.

That’s one tradition I’m happy to do without!

When November rolled around, our younger boys were still asking questions.

“Why do we have to have turkey for Thanksgiving? Why can’t we have spaghetti?” Drew asked.

Finally, a question I could answer with logic and a history lesson. “Because the pilgrims didn’t have spaghetti, they had turkey.”

“What was his name?”

“Oh, uh, William Bradford or maybe, Myles Standish.”

“I thought it was Tom.”

“The pilgrim?”

“No, the turkey.”

Of course!

 “Why didn’t they have spaghetti?”

“Because . . . it wasn’t invented yet?” The words came out my mouth before my brain had a chance to catch up. Yikes! I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.

“Why did the pilgrims put nuts in their apples?”

“Huh?” I turned to see Randy poking at his Waldorf salad—raisins, apples and walnuts separated into neat little piles.

“That’s a good question. I guess the pilgrims gathered all the yummy foods they could find and mixed them up and called it salad.”

So much for the history lesson.

During dessert it was Christopher's turn. “Mom, is this pumpkin pie?” His tongue lapped at his whipped cream mustache.

“Yes, it is. Do you like it?”

“Uh-huh. It’s good!  But if this is pumpkin, where's the scary face?”

Got me there!

But when it came to the thankful part of Thanksgiving, we’d go around the table, as is the custom of many, and each share what we were thankful for:

“Mom and Dad.”

“Our house.”

“Jesus.”

“My bike.”

“My teacher.”

“Waffles.”

Giving thanks is in the heart of the beholder.

By December, I figured the questions would end, but my inquisitive offspring were just getting warmed up.

“Why is there a tree in our living room?”

“Why do we hang stockings on the staircase?”

And when my mother-in-law arrived with a plate of fresh-baked fruitcake, a recipe handed down from generation to generation, the twins chimed in unison: “Who put gummy worms in grandma’s bread?”

I didn’t mind the questions, but it did get me thinking, are all our traditions necessary?  Should there be less hustle and bustle and more “season to be jolly?”

To focus on the deeper meaning, we made it a tradition to read the Biblical account of the Christmas story together on Christmas Eve. Later, we took it up and notch and had the kids dress up and act it out as it was read, ending by singing Christmas carols. The kids took turns being Mary or Joseph or an angel, shepherd, or king. Whenever possible, the youngest one played the part of the baby in the manger.

Retelling the Christmas story will always be my favorite holiday tradition. And now our grandkids are getting in on the act as the story is read, answering an often asked question: What is Christmas all about?

I can hear the voice of Linus as he quotes from Luke 2, "And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not,' for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

On Christmas morning, the youngest two, Drew and Michael, nearly jumped out of their footy pajamas (if that were possible) and squealed with delight at the pile of presents spilling out from under the pine boughs. “Where did these come from?”

“Santa came last night,” older sister, Lesanna, gasped with delight.

When it came time to unwrap the presents, I felt clever—as Santa’s helper—to have wrapped each item separately, so they’d all have plenty to open.  But after an hour of unwrapping every book, Matchbox car, and pair of socks, we reached a point when rip-and-tear had the young boys fit-to-be-tied.  As I held out the last few gifts, one of the boys cast his droopy eyes at me and pleaded, “Can we be done now?”

I sighed, “OK.” Then they all turned and dove headlong into the mound of foil paper, empty boxes, and satin ribbons.

I looked at my husband, “Why do we buy toys when they'd rather play in the packaging?”

“Well,” he hesitated, eyeing the paper-flying frenzy, “you have to admit, that does look fun.” And with that, he jumped right in the middle of them . . .

. . . and began a whole new holiday tradition.

Jen♡