As always, I like a nice family tradition. It is the way it is, and there is no arguing because that is the way it is. That is the way it always has been. And that is the way it always will be until I leave this house feet first. And then my children will do the same with their families. And if they don’t, then I will haunt them and they will have bad juju in their house. Or at least that’s what I tell them and so far they believe me. So I guess our family traditions are kept alive through fear and intimidation, but isn’t that the true cornerstone of great parenting?
Actually, I know my kids like the fact that we always have pierogies in mushroom gravy on Christmas Eve and then the kids open one present. And they know that I did that as a child, as did my mother, and her mother, and so on. And they know that the Easter Bunny always brings a fabulous solid chocolate bunny, not some hollow corn syrup based piece of crap.
And they know that we color our Easter eggs a day or two before Easter and then eat them Easter morning. Brooke was shocked on Sunday when we were walking out of Easter services and the woman in front of us asked her kids if they were ready to go home and color eggs. “Who does that?” she asked. As if the mom had asked the kids if they wanted to put up their Christmas tree. She knows it’s just not done that way. And we always color our eggs using white vinegar instead of water. Anytime I smell white vinegar, I remember coloring eggs in my grandmother’s kitchen in
The Glitter Egg. I leave the room for ten minutes and my family tradition has gone to Vegas and back. I don’t like where this is headed. Next they’ll want flashing lights on the Christmas tree. Their great grandma’s ghost just might have to make a surprise appearance. I wonder if I can fit under Brooke’s bed? Fear and intimidation, baby. That’s how you know mommy loves you.