This time of year, like everyone else, we have a lot of traditions to keep up with. Yesterday, we enjoyed one of our more consistent traditions, riding the Pink Pig and visiting Santa at Atlanta’s Lenox Mall. We usually do this with our very good friends and their son, and last night we capped it off with dinner in the mall, where we spent much of the time trying to keep the three boys, in their candy-cane-induced frenzy, from ruining everyone else’s (read: our) dinner. The Pink Pig is a little train housed under a giant white tent in the Macy’s parking lot. It’s not as silly as it sounds - it’s sillier: there’s also a corny narrative that accompanies the ride. I didn’t really listen to what the narrator was saying, but I do recall a few ya’alls and southern expressions delivered in a heavy accent. I was too busy laughing at how ridiculous we parents looked crammed into the train seats. But this is truly one of our most constant holiday traditions, and I love it.

We have some traditions that come and go, like ice skating in Centennial Park and running around in the fake snow at Atlantic Station. These are both lots of fun and worth perpetuating, but sometimes we just don’t get to do everything. Last year, we were out of town for the holidays, but I think this year there’s a pretty good chance of crossing them off the list.

There are also some not-so-good traditions around here. Like how the first-grader hides candy, cookies, and anything with sugar in it, around the house so that he can gorge himself at any time. That’s actually a year-round thing, but this time of year, instead of finding Tic Tacs and gum behind the picture frames, it’s Christmas Cookie decorations and candy canes.

Then there are the unintentional traditions. We have this really cute book that a friend sent us when our oldest was just a baby. It’s a Christmas story and it comes with a flashlight - you read the story and shine the light on the pages which have cutouts, and the shadows help to tell the story. I have really wanted it to be a Christmas Eve ritual where we read this story with the boys. Instead, the tradition is that each year I lay that book out anticipating a very sweet story time, and every year I reassemble the flashlight parts, strewn all over the house by the boys, and put away the unread book.

Sometimes, the word “tradition” is attached to something random. My first grader’s teacher asked the class to talk to their parents about bringing their favorite traditional holiday dish to class next week. His go-to dish was one that he has had a time or two before, but then he just seemed to really notice it at our Thanksgiving feast just last month. It’s a corn casserole that was one of many delicious dishes at the table. Now, apparently, it is our “traditional holiday dish.” Or I guess it will be. In fact, it has been requested at every meal since November 26th and it’s not some terribly offensive request, so I’ll go along.

It’s ok - it definitely could be a worse tradition — like the traditional meltdown that often comes when the kids realize that the toy we are buying will be a gift, or the children’s traditional wiggling and inappropriately loud discussion during the Christmas Eve church service. Embrace your family’s traditions, whatever they are and happy holidays!