Word of Mouth From my Mother

If you didn’t notice son, Christmas is a carefully choreographed tradition–I like to think of it as a mix of cozy ritual, a bit of British custom, and some parental magic. Every year, we manage to host your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and family friends under one roof, crowding them around a long dinner table for a meal that never changes: your father’s signature roast, buttery potatoes, and whatever else[she talked about as these dishes seeming to appear out of nowhere but feeling like they’ve always belonged]…

…You remember the main custom, before the meal begins, we all pop Christmas crackers, wear the paper crowns, and tell the corny jokes or trivia questions. Everyone has to wear their crown, no exceptions. [Something of a silent rule.] Inevitably, [Uncle name] brings the energy to the meal as he tries to guess the answer to someone else’s riddle before they finish reading it. It’s chaotic, silly, and comforting–exactly how it’s supposed to be…

…Remember on Christmas eve, we’d leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for Santa, and you and your sister would go to bed, your father and I would leave out a few wrinkled dates in the front yard as “reindeer poop.” We’d also make sure that before Every Christmas morning, no matter how old you two[me and my sister] got, the milk would be half-drunk, the cookies nibbled, and the dates scattered. Even now, when you all know the “truth,” we still put the plate and dates out. It’s tradition…

Context

I interviewed my mom about our family’s Christmas rituals, and she lit up almost immediately. “It’s the one time of year when everyone is just… there,” she said. For her, Christmas was always about creating a sense of continuity–blending traditions from her own childhood with the new ones she and my dad created when we were young. The paper crowns and Christmas crackers come from my dad’s British side of the family, and they’ve been part of every holiday she can remember. “You can’t not wear the crown. It’s just part of the meal,” she joked.

She described how she and my dad would take turns arranging the Santa plate late at night–taking a careful bite of the cookies, sipping the milk just right, and tossing a few dates in the yard to complete the illusion.

These rituals weren’t grand or showy, but they were performed with deep consistency. Even now, with the kids grown, my parents still go through the motions–not because we believe, but because we remember.

Analysis

This Christmas tradition is an excellent example of domestic folklore: habitual, symbolic acts carried out within the family to affirm identity, belonging, and memory. While none of the individual actions–crackers, roast, Santa plates–are unique on their own, the specific combination of these elements, repeated year after year, becomes a form of narrative performance that binds the family together.

The Christmas crackers and paper crowns reflect a cultural carryover from British holiday customs, adapted into the family’s American context. They serve as both props and prompts–each one delivering not just a joke but a shared experience. The insistence on everyone wearing the crowns transforms a simple object into a badge of belonging, and the ritualized groaning at jokes adds a performative dimension to the meal.

The Santa cookies and “reindeer poop” represent another key aspect of holiday folklore: magical realism within childhood belief systems. These actions deliberately blur the line between fiction and reality, giving children something to believe in while also offering parents a way to perform care and wonder. Even as belief fades, the actions remain–now functioning not as proof of Santa, but as proof of love and continuity.

In this sense, the tradition has matured alongside the family: once a tool of imagination, it now functions as a nostalgic ritual that reaffirms connection across time. The ongoing performance of the Santa plate–even when no one is fooled–embodies the essence of folklore: shared meaning enacted again and again, not because we need to believe, but because we want to remember. It’s part of the ties that bind our family together and I will definitely continue this tradition–if not add onto it–with my own kids when the time comes.