It’s a powerful thing.

And like any powerful thing, tradition is full of potential benefits, but also fraught with danger.

Kinda like nuclear energy.

Or drone surveillance.

Maybe GMOs.

My bride is the Arbiter of Ritual and Tradition in our home.  I don’t know how she got the position—we never voted or anything.  If I ask her, she makes vague reference to Cosmic Law, with which it appears I can’t argue.  In any case, as Arbiter, Catherine has the awesome power to create new family traditions on the spot.  If she likes something, if she thinks it makes us more familyish, it’s in.

Forever.

That’s how we got the Christmas Clock, which rules my life with a fist of iron during the month of December.

That’s how we got our Family Bedtime Prayer Position—holding hands in a circle, arms crossed right over left (Yes, right over left…what are you, some kind of pagan?)

That’s how we got our Goodnight Ritual, which I may not share with you, lest my children melt into the carpet with embarrassment.

Now I’m already on record as saying that I love family traditions.  They provide a strong sense of identity, a collection of customs that binds you together and makes you see everyone else as an outsider. That’s important.  And my Bride is an excellent Arbiter—I shudder to think of the damage I might cause given that kind of raw power.

I’m simply making the point that I have to be extremely careful whenever I do something new, particularly at birthdays or holidays or such.  I have to strike the proper balance.  You see, if I do something lame—like oh, a seven mile hike in pitch darkness—I pay a price.  That price may be steep, but the pain will probably be temporary.  If, on the other hand, I do something really wonderful, I am in worse danger, because she is likely to say the five most dangerous words a man can hear:

“Let’s make this a tradition!”

Case in point: the Mommy birthday video.  When the twins were about five years old, I made a video of them for Cathy’s birthday.  I set a camera up on a tripod and coached the kids through a few songs, prayers, and calls of “I love you, Mommy.”  Frankly, I was short on cash, and thought I could get away with a little mush while the kids were still cute.

She loved it, and declared it a family tradition on the spot.   I have spent the last nine years filming singing, and bicycle riding, and piano playing, and birthday cake building, and swimming, and basically growing up.

Here’s an example from yesteryear.

 

Now, I’ve got to admit, that is a pretty cool tradition.  We have a neat chronicle of the kids growing up, and evidence for blackmail now that they’re teenagers.  As a bonus, the twins are now old enough to do the filming themselves, which takes the entire project out of my hands.  They can do the whole thing without me.

Bitter and sweet.

The only remaining concern is that we like to watch all the videos—from age 5 on—each year, and of course that process is only getting longer.  By the time the kids have families of their own, we will spend half the year making the videos, and half the year watching them.

Which could be my bride’s motive in continuing the tradition.

Smart lady.  Good Arbiter.

So, what about you?  What traditions do you have that your family would kill you for sharing?  I promise I won’t tell—I’ll publish, but I won’t tell.