Every year I choose a book for my daughter to read on Christmas Eve. This tradition started because my parents, being sane, allowed us to open all of our family gifts on Christmas Eve and only Santa gifts were opened Christmas morning. My husband’s family did not practice this reasonable tradition. They were of the opinion that the tree should stay bare until Christmas morning. Only then would all manner of presents appear. This made no sense to me when I married into the family and still does not to this very day. However, I am an occasionally wise woman who knows which hills are worth dying on. That one was not. If you ever spend a Christmas morning with my husband and see how his eyes light up when he sees the tree loaded down on Christmas morning you will agree that I chose wisely. So, we settled into the tradition of Christmas pjs, a book and a box of chocolate covered cherries being acceptable Christmas Eve fodder. Gradually, this expanded to include a game too. Some people don’t like to read after all. And, somewhere along the way, we started including a puzzle. Some people don’t like to read or play games after all. Then movies entered the rotation. Some people need a little time alone on Christmas Eve with Jimmy Stewart after all. So, through the years, the rule has expanded and been modified until many, many presents are opened on Christmas Eve. My husband complains every year and I smirk (just a little) in victory every year. But, the book and pjs always make an appearance. In fact, now that my daughter has married and has kids I have started making sure they have matching family pjs. You don’t know true Christmas joy until you see your 6’7″ son in law in pajamas that match his toddler’s. Wonderfully awkward pictures have been taken that have been banned from any public forum. Please use your imagination. But my daughter’s book is always the focal point for me. It’s the focal point because I love that I raised a reader. When I was a kid, instead of giving us money for doing chores my parents would pay us for every book we read. Summertime meant a long list of books on the fridge with dollar amounts out to the side. At the bottom was your possible total if you read them all. I always did. So, when I had my daughter, I was kinda determined she would be a reader. Picking her Christmas Eve book played right into that. I have spent countless hours in book stores trying to find the perfect book for her every Christmas. When she was little I wanted the most beautiful story books. The ones with the incredible illustrations and a story line that made your heart hurt just a little with their truth. (Christmas Day in the Morning by Pearl S. Buck) As she got older, I wanted books that would become dear friends. Books she would want to reread every year. (The legend of Holly Claus by Brittney Ryan) Now that she’s a mom with zero time for herself, I look for books that I hope will say something just to her. The her that existed before the husband and kids. This year I thought I had picked a winner. I was looking forward to her greedily reading the book jacket and then sneaking off the first chance she got. I pictured her kids asleep early and her snuggled under her Christmas comforter reading until the early hours of Christmas morning. Not sure if you’ve noticed but I can be a little idealistic! (When I read this to my husband he will laugh hysterically at this point.) Anyway, these were my dreams. So, today, when I arrived at my daughter’s house and she handed me a book to peruse I felt a warm glow of motherly satisfaction. At least I was feeling that way until I really paid attention to the book I was holding. Then the satisfaction took a hit. I happened to know that that very same book was safely tucked under the tree in the Christmas Eve box containing four pairs of matching pajamas, 7 books (it’s hard to choose for the little ones!), two games and two puzzles. Again with the choosing. I considered, briefly, getting the book out of the previously mentioned box and scouring Amazon for a replacement. I considered stealing this new copy and trying to convince my daughter she was losing her mind and had never purchased it. I considered all the things. And then, I accepted defeat. Out of all the books in the world we had chosen the same one. That was cool right? Maybe it was a sign that it was time for a change. Out with the old and in with the new. A different kind of Christmas. Honestly, I was a little tired anyway. Because of my husband’s desire for a big surprise every Christmas morning, I basically haven’t had any closet, attic or shed space for the entire month of December for decades. Maybe we should just upend the whole Christmas thing altogether. Just throw presents under the tree unwrapped! Let people buy for themselves and wrap their own gifts. Let my daughter pick her own Christmas Eve book in the years to come. That sounds….awful. Besides, I have big plans this year. I’m going to introduce the idea that some people don’t like to read or play games or work puzzles or watch movies–some people like playing electronics on Christmas Eve. Imagine how many gifts I can rescue for Christmas Eve that way! On another note, my daughter and I are starting a Christmas book club. We both have our copies you just need to get yours.