Ritual of the Habitual

I have a strap-on head lamp for early morning or dusk jogging. It also serves as a night-light beneath the covers in my twin 9 year-old son, Noah James', single bed as we read scary stories. Sure, we read his "Children's Adventure Bible" and Bill Bennet's "Book of Virtues" too. But when left to our own devices and lacking his mother's supervision and over-protective, parental micro-management, we break out the horror. So every night at bedtime, The Mom goes to read with twin sister, Olivia, about fairy godmothers, princesses, unicorns, and the like. A mere 50 feet down the hall and to the right, Noah and I are holed up in his room, beneath the blankets, lights out, door shut tight, jamming through the pages exploring vampires, leviathons, and his personal favorite: The Big Foot/Yettie. The rules are simple:

* No farting (we're vapor-locked under the covers--this is just a common courtesy);

* I read a paragraph--he reads a paragraph (this allows for an educational experience); and,

* If his mom comes in during our reading, we have pre-programmed retorts like: "Dad, why did John the Baptist have to die?" Or, "...and son, that's why character and integrity are so important."

After she leaves, we're back to zombies and poltergeists. It's our nightly ritual. It's tradition. Noah and me. His sister has a different deal. We have "Daddy Dates". We attend the annual Father/Daughter Dance sponsored by our local Parks & Rec. Dept. where she puts on a lovely dress, I get her a coursage, I wear a suit, and we hit a nice Italian dinner before our dance. Little babe knows how to cut a rug too! After our over-priced, Prom-type photo, we get right out to the floor and shake our money-makers! I do my caucasion, 80s, dork-dance. She does the latest Hannah Montana/iCarly steps. I try to emulate her--she demands I stop. So, I go back to the White Guy thing; and she laughs. Every spring Olivia and I spend a weekend at Warm Beach Christian Camp for Dad & Daughter Weekend. For the last four years we've driven to Stanwood, stopped at the Marysville Outlet Malls, eaten at The Rain Forest Cafe, and spend two and a half days doing WHATEVER SHE wants to do. The camp is beautiful, the cabins rustic, and the horse outtings are pretty cool--except the dorky helmets you have to wear. She loves it. I love being with her. She's an amazing human that loves to talk. Those are our traditions--our rituals. I will continue them until they no longer desire or outgrow them. Then I'll replace them with new ones. Traditions are important. They ground you into a time and space where life can be categorized, remembered, and treasured. If you don't have any traditions--start some today. You have that power.