Prepping for Christmas Eve Traditions

We’re a family of traditions. Especially my mother's side: Polish, Catholic, Crazy – and a lot of fun. Seriously. At Easter (which may be our biggest holiday) we have egg fights because that's the Polish thing to do. For all the Christian holidays we share communion because that’s what we’ve always done. Christmas Eve is another HUGE deal and now, to make sure the Polish traditions live on, we've changed the date as to not conflict with the plans of extended family. (Or at least that’s what I tell myself… in reality, it’s changed so that my cousin’s kids can go to bed Christmas Eve in their own house.) Since we are slightly crazy, we no longer consider December 24th Christmas Eve and instead celebrate it the Saturday before hand (in this case, tomorrow). There are far too many traditions to explain here and now, but I think this may be my favorite story of hilarity regarding Christmas Eve/Polish Christian traditions we follow:

A couple years ago my roommate from Dartmouth, Nel, stayed with me over the Christmas recess rather than fly to her home in India. She was a hilarious, brilliant little girl - such a smart, dry sense of humor. And, as with many Indians, she was Muslim. But as the adopted member of my family that season, she joined us for all our holiday festivities - including Polish Christmas Eve.

The family was just beginning to sit down for the gigantic feast currently being finished in the kitchen. Nel (Dartmouth roommate), Alex (brother), Tim (boyfriend at the time) and myself sipped wine beside the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. My aunt Lori (who is a kind woman and host of the party, and had recently received a kidney transplant from her sister-in-law, my aunt Jackie, an ex-nun with a heart of gold) herded the “babies” of the family - my cousin's two children Michael and Abby - to the little table beside us. These sweet little kids quickly and politely took their seats and then, as the curious youth tend to do, asked a very valid question:

"Aunt Lori?" Michael peeped up in his innocent little voice. "Who's that place set for?" and he pointed across the blue Fisher Price table to a place mat, silverware, bowl & plate. On the plastic seat was a bit of straw.

In all seriousness, my aunt looked at her grandchildren and said, "Oh, that place is set for baby Jesus."

And instantly Nel burst out laughing.

Looking around at the suddenly stern looks of my nearby family members and then at my brother and myself struggling to keep a straight face, she bowed her head and turned to me and whispered: "Oh my God," her bony, tanned fingers hid a huge smile, "she was serious?!"

That's about when I gave into the laughter too.

Who knows why we do these things. Truth is, my babcis did them and my grandchildren will too. After all, that is the essence of tradition... right?