Mr. Hankey, The Christmas Poo

This is the time of year when raising a Jewish child gets a little more difficult.

For as long as I can remember, I have experienced countless exclaims of dismay when I explain that no, I don't celebrate Christmas.  That's right, we don't even have a tree. Nope, not a Chanukkah bush either. (FYI-there's  no such thing).

No, stop right there. It's ok. Really. It is.

Not having a tree doesn't mean I'm a scrooge. Not celebrating Christmas doesn't leave me desperate and sobbing alone at home.

I love Christmas Carols  (Everyone knows that they kick Dreidle Dreidle Dreidle's ass). I love looking at Christmas lights. I love holiday decorations in the mall.  I love all of the Christmas parties we attend. And, when we visit my husband's family, I love being included in their celebration. Just as, I'm sure, you would love being included in my celebration of Chanukkah. Or Passover. Or Rosh Hashana. Or any other Jewish holiday where we observe but also spend time with family and friends and have yummy food (and too much to drink).

It's just the assumption that's tough. Just yesterday, while in the line to checkout out of Bed Bath and Beyond, a sweet older lady said to my son (who, at the time, was playing with a cute little propeller-candy thing) "Maybe Santa will put that in your stocking, sweetie". My husband looked at me, awaiting my reply. My son looked at the lady as if she was purple. I replied, "Maybe".

Let me explain. It's easier to just go along with it. If I were to correct everyone who wished me a Merry Christmas over the holiday season with a curt, "I/We don't Celebrate Christmas" I would be proving nothing. I live in America. Just as most people speak English, the majority celebrate Christmas. I know this. I also know that what these well-wishers are really wishing me is a happy time of year.

And, you know what? I'm cool with that. I like me a happy time.

I know that my son will get it and he, too, will not miss anything. I am so fortunate to be able to give him anything he wants. Gifts? Sure. But more importantly, a warm home. A loving family. Plenty of food. Even more laughter and love.

And that, folks, is something to celebrate.