Tradition

Ahhh, Christmas. A time for traditions new and old. For the past few years, our tradition has been spending the holiday with Scott's family in New York. Thus, we haven't exactly established too many traditions pertinent to just us... except one: the little man on the tree.

Okay, so this tradition actually traces back to Scott's growing up years, but it has definitely become part of our holiday tradition, too.

See, Scott made a Santa (or as he calls it, "the little man") when he was a kid. And by golly, he is certainly proud of his handiwork. So proud, in fact, that this Santa occupies a position of honor on our tree. No, not the topper, even better. Front and center. Not to the side, not down low. Front and Center. As in, you can't help but notice him.

Like most men I know, Scott's not really into decorating for the holidays (though he does help with the tree). As I sat unpacking our ornaments, the sound of Christmas music accompanied my husband's persistent inquiry ("Where's my guy? Babe, where's my guy?"). As far as he was concerned, that was the ONLY ornament he had to hang. In fact, he figured he'd be done decorating once Santa found his place on our tree. (But knowing what Scott was thinking, I didn't unpack his "guy" until the end.)

But our tradition doesn't end there. I mean, what would be the fun in that? No, now I have a role in this tradition, too. Periodically, Santa "mysteriously" moves. He likes to take a break from the spotlight, so he finds another less obvious, less demanding spot on the tree. Often, he likes to face a corner or wall. (Maybe he doesn't feel the pressure so much there.) But alas, his respite is often short-lived. For Scott, upon noticing that his "guy" is missing, will send out a search and rescue team to locate Santa and restore him to his rightful place on our tree.

Ahhhh... but Santa has ways of sneaking away again...