Every Christmas Eve, just before the kids go to bed, Brian sets out a plate of Chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk for Santa Claus—yes, he still does this even though our kids are now nineteen and fifteen-years-old! What can I say? He’s a traditionalist.

The idea of the plate of cookies was so that on Christmas morning, a single bite would have been taken out of a cookie, and therefore delighting Lorrin and Nathan, as well as proving that Santa had been to our house—not that the presents under the Christmas tree did that.

One year, when our kids were little, we sat around the Christmas tree opening presents. Brian absentmindedly picked up the cookie with a notched eaten out of it and devoured the rest. Nate made a face. When it comes to food or drinks, Nate is a bit of a germophobe and doesn’t share, ever.

“Dad,” he asked, “why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You ate the cookie Santa took a bite out of. That’s disgusting!”

Brian didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make the lie bigger. Instead, he shrugged.

After that, Nate started a Christmas tradition of his own. He kept an eye on the plate of cookies left for Santa, and after everyone has seen that Kris Cringle had been to our house, he’d throw away the bitten cookie before his dad could eat it. Proving that while some traditions are passed down from generation to generation, others are forged from a situation.