Everyone has their own little things that will be wonderful memories for our children when they’re grown, and maybe even traditions that our grandchildren, and their grandchildren follow.
And at the heart of them, a lot of the time, is a moment of playfulness, of distraction. And there will be times, like McKay’s showing, when you’re stuck. Maybe you don’t have the energy, or there’s too much going on elsewhere in life. But we find a reason to put the effort in and keep doing that thing.
Most of them are around bedtime. We’ve got a few little traditions, so small you’d almost call them habits, but their size isn’t a measure of their importance. Quite the opposite.
Family traditions give families their own patina, their own scent, their own unique texture. They could be once a year Christmas traditions, or things that only happen at birthdays or daily rituals that make breakfast just right. Whatever they are, whenever they happen, there’s a moment as a parent when you realise it’s on you to create them.
And as a dad, it feels like a particularly important responsibility.
Maybe it’s the hangover of ‘man of the house’ masculinity. Whatever it is, there’s something weighty about the idea of family traditions. Deep down you know these things are really important, and deep down you know you’re just winging it.
And winging it, as a man, is hard. It goes against that voice inside us (or at least me, and maybe I am strangely unique, but I doubt it), telling us we should already have this sorted, because we’re the man of the house, the guy in charge. Or It feels like false bravado. And the last thing I want to be with my family is false.
Those two things - misguided masculinity and a desire not to be false - might be getting in the way of making more family traditions.
Let’s think about that a bit more.
Everything that’s traditional was, at one point, new and unfamiliar. But people kept doing it. Eventually, it became comfortable, and then later, traditional. The people doing those things for the first few, or many times may have felt a bit daft. But they put themselves out there, exposed themselves to mirth, because they felt what they were doing mattered. Maybe all it led to was the smile of a loved one, or the laughter of many loved ones. But the more they did that thing, the more it mattered. The less uncomfortable it was to do it, and the more uncomfortable it became not to do it. Whatever it was.
And if that logic stands up, which it does to me, then quite clearly the two things getting in the way of making more family traditions are wrong. The masculinity thing of not wanting to be or seem out of control, and the desire not to be false.
It’s like that line in one of Mike Skinners’ post The Streets songs -
‘You are not the voice in your head. You’re the one who listens to it.’
So what about the false thing? Well, everything has a cost. So it’s either be authentically you, in your most comfortable state, and not take a risk to do something daft. Or it’s to be authentically you in your uncomfortable state, taking a risk and doing something daft. And if the reward for doing that daft thing is the start of a tradition that warms the hearts and memories of those that you love, and may do the same for the generations that come next, discomfort is a very small price to pay.
A friend has space ketchup. If someone has ketchup it has to come from space. You hold the bottle as high as you can and squeeze. The splatter on the plate always raises a giggle from the kids. It turns into a full on belly laugh if the plate is missed.
Isn’t it wonderful how there’s no safer, more caring place to put ourselves out there, to do daft, silly things, and be vulnerable, than in our family? Because we love each other unconditionally.