Way back in December, Sarah Skwire shared a story about how one family tradition came to be.
When I was growing up, we made gingerbread houses every year. They grew increasingly ornate over time–crenelations and portcullises were standard, and melted crushed lifesavers made exceptionally good stained glass–and they were always a highlight of holiday pictures. We kept the house around for weeks.
One year either my sister or I knocked the house off the dining room table. Lower lips began to quiver. Howls of despair and recrimination were JUST about to begin.
Mom stepped in.
“Oh good! You smashed the house on New Year’s Eve. That seems just right. Now we can eat it.”
So we did.
And now, Skwire family gingerbread houses are ritually smashed (with a meat tenderizing mallet) and eaten on New Year’s Eve.
Because it’s tradition.
May your holidays be filled with delightful and delicious emergent orders of all kinds.
This is a holiday tradition that I can support wholeheartedly.