Every year, about this time, G/Son & I read Tolkien’s Letters from Father Christmas. (A million years ago, I used to read it to his dad.) The part that G/Son likes best is the part when the North Polar Bear tries to carry too many presents down the stairs, trips, drops them, and falls down the stairs. We have a good laugh about that, and G/Son assures me that none of the presents destined for HIM got crushed. So far, that’s been true.
A few years ago, after we read the story for the first time, I began to make G/Son a cake version of Santa’s workshop, filled with uncrushed presents.
(Picture by the author. If you copy, please link back.)
This year, G/Son and his mom will make the cake and Nonna will show up to help decorate it. When this little soul was born, one thing that I promised the Goddess as I sat outside the room where his ‘rents were doing the magical work of bringing him through the veils, was that I would ground him in traditions that would sustain him into the 22nd Century, long after my ashes are, may it please the fates, fertilizing lilac bushes. I hope that this tradition is one.
What traditions do you create?
Picture found here.