“What’s your family’s tradition at Christmas time?”

This question was posed to me a few days ago and I remember feeling a bit taken aback at the choice of words. ‘Tradition’ isn’t my favourite word. It invokes images of staid aunties in their Sunday best, trotting off to church because it’s ‘the done thing’. Grannies who mutter under their breath at way the world has changed. A lack of adventure, novelty and innovation.

Yet isn't part of child-rearing about helping to create a history, replete with rituals, habits and conventions, for our children? Our household is full of them: going to church, trying to remember to say ‘Grace’ before meals, and reading the papers on a Sunday afternoon while the children run wild. Reading stories before bed, saying we love each other when we say ‘goodbye’, eating biscuits in bed on long weekend mornings.

Tradition, then, isn’t all bad. I was overcome yesterday when I fetched James for the last time from his crèche. A five-year tradition that seemed to creep up on me and grab hold of my heart. One that, almost too soon for my liking, has come to an end. For James, it means no more cooked meals at lunchtime, no more sleeps in the middle of the day and no more ‘staying with mommy’ days, just because we feel like it. For me, it means no more dropping James a whisper away from my work, no more popping up within a few minutes when he’s ill, no more long chats with his teacher. It can be sad letting tradition go.

I took the children to the theatre today. Within the last few years, it’s become a tradition at this particular theatre to put on a Christmas pantomime the week before Christmas. The last time we went to see this show was two years ago. Hannah was barely three months old and I sat breastfeeding her throughout the show, exhausted beyond belief. As I sat there today, watching my children watching the show, I felt my heart swell with pleasure. James - unlike last time, when he was too young to understand what was happening - laughing in all the right places and making a start, despite his shyness, at participating. Hannah – much more aware than she was the last time we were there - intrigued, yet terrified whenever the elves appeared. Tradition, when it’s coupled with novelty, like a fledgling skill, or a new child, can be exhilarating.

So what’s our tradition at Christmas time? A dinner with siblings, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and grandparents on Christmas Eve. The appearance of Father Christmas (one of the males in the family – probably Scott this year!) who doles out cheap gifts to the children. Exchanging gifts under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. Church with Belinda and Rhiannon. Lunch with my parents in the afternoon and yet more gifts to exchange.

Lacking in spontaneity? Certainly. Habit? A little bit. But exciting? Unquestionably: nothing could match the thrill I get from seeing the looks on my children’s faces as they take part in our family tradition.

Four more sleeps.