One of my fondest memories from childhood is Santa bringing us new pajamas every Christmas Eve.
We would all be at my Gramma’s house or at the town hall in Paris (Paris as in the small farm town in southeastern Wisconsin, not Paris as in the city of love) or, in later years, the living room of whomever’s turn it was to host that year. My brothers and sisters, my parents, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my Gramma and Grampa would all be there. The kids would be finishing up our dinner or running around playing, the anticipation mounting. And then there would be the faint sound of bells or a knock at the door or a parent would just magically walk by and notice Santa’s sack. Sometimes Santa would stay and talk with all of the kids; but mostly he would just drop off the packages and head out to deliver presents across the world.
We would gather round, open the sack, and find that there were packages wrapped in newspaper inside. There would be one for each of the grandchildren. We would excitedly tear into them to find new pajamas. We would run for the nearest changing area and come out donning our new sleepwear, happy to keep on playing and eating until it was time to go home.
In my family, my siblings and I would have a contest to see who could stay in their pajamas the longest. After all, it was Christmas break, who needs real clothes?!
So, when it came time for me to start creating my own holiday magic for my own family, yearly Christmas Eve pajamas magically delivered by Santa himself were a must.
What is your favorite family tradition?