Christmas has always been a big deal here in the Robinson household. Raising nine children, we have had to rely on creating memories and traditions bulk of our Christmas celebrations. I thought I did a pretty good job of covering up any monetary lack by supplementing Christmas luster. But I never realized how much of an impact our traditions and hoopla over Christmas had actually made on our children until the oldest began his quest to bring the Christmas spirit into his own home.

My oldest son, Chris, was the first to try and capture the spirit of Christmas. At first, he was sure the Christmas spirit only resided at our house. So he drug his new bride home to spend the night with us on Christmas Eve. This has since become a family tradition for newlyweds.

(Warning on traditions: do it once and everyone declares it a tradition, that must be carried on forever. So be careful what you start—it may have no end.)

His bride, wise gal that she is, later convinced him that his parent’s house was not the only place where the true spirit of Christmas lived; therefore they needed to make their own Christmas traditions.

He conceded, and decided that Christmas was all in the right tree. So, they took a family outing to a local tree farm and picked the most sincere Christmas tree they could find--and it was grand. The entire evening was spent stringing long strands of popcorn, playing Christmas music and decorating a tree tall enough to reach the ceiling.

The first time this wonderful tree tumbled to the floor they took it in stride. The second time it hit the ground, there was little humor left. Daddy once again, stood the tree up, everyone put their ornaments and creations back in place and all was right. By then the family had had all the excitement they could tolerate, and called it a night.

‘Twas the wee hours of morn, with everyone tucked snug in their beds, when, well guess what they heard. No, not the hoofs of reindeer, nor the chuckle of a jolly old man, you guessed it! It was the distinct sound of falling timber and breaking glass.

The next morning my boy fixed the problem. He went into the garage, got a hammer and nails, came inside, and nailed the tree to the floor. Yes, he nailed it…and there it stood tall and strong until sometime in late January.

The following year he bought an artificial tree, already exquisitely decorated, and found peace. They ate the popcorn and admired it.

Still, and always in search of capturing Christmas, I received a phone call from this same son the day after Thanksgiving. He was excited, and his voice was triumphant, “Mom, it’s 10 am, and we are done with all of our Christmas shopping!” He had discovered black Friday, and by his estimation—he conquered Christmas.

He will certainly carry on the Robinson Christmas tradition of loving Christmas, I’m not really sure if he has truly captured the Christmas spirit, or just beat it into submission.