I reached into the box and pulled out the traditional tree-topper angel. I stared at its serene face, eyes closed, holding a little incandescent white-light bulb that was supposed to emulate a candle.
“BOOOOORIIINNNNNG,” I said as I tossed it back into the box. “Let’s do something different this year.”
My family counts itself as one of the many worldwide families that celebrate Christmas without the burden of actually believing in anything religious. In fact, according to the Pew Research Center, only 46% of Americans celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday(1), so I know we aren’t alone in this.
It’s not that we don’t hope there is a Heaven, but more like we hope there is a Heaven we can get into without actually having to go to church or do any additional work to get into. I’m not saying I am particularly proud of this, and I know that’s not how Heaven supposedly works, but I’m always looking for a loophole.
Saint Peter [looking over his checklist at Heaven’s Gate]: “I’m sorry, you’re not on the list.”
Me [handing him a $20 bill]: “Here’s $20 to look the other way.”
Saint Peter [looking the other way]: “I’m sorry, you’re not on the list.”
Me: [disappears in a poof of smoke]
I do love Christmas, though. I love being able to see the happy and joyous faces of my kids as they open gifts that I will be paying off until the following Christmas.
Every year, when we put up our fake, pre-lit tree, we pull out the garish Saint Nick or oversized lit-up angel for the top.
It was honestly an anti-climactic way to finish decorating the tree, something we do together (mom, dad, and kids) as a family on the Friday after U.S. Thanksgiving. We all have the day off of school or work, so this seems like the perfect day to teach the kids new swear words while I try to put up Christmas lights.
Fast-forward to the year 2014.
My second wife and I had just celebrated our first wedding anniversary, and — as tradition upheld — we had our four kids gathered to decorate the tree. This is why one day a year my house is filled with children fighting about tinsel.
By rule, each child would have to participate by putting up at least a single ornament to become eligible for Christmas presents. Of course, my wife and I would still buy them presents, but this seemed like a good way to bribe the kids into decorating the tree for us.
Sidebar: My son and daughter are at college as I write this. My son came down for Thanksgiving but told us this year he would not be able to help decorate the tree. I asked him to put at least one ornament on before he headed back to school.
I came home to this on the tree:
Smartass.
Back to 2014.
The kids finished the tree and stood back, admiring their handiwork. The tree was covered in a thick layer of unconventional decorations. Robots and fish ornaments were peppered along the fake branches along with things that looked like onions.
I’d long since decided that the tree, and this holiday, was supposed to be fun. What could be more fun than a tree covered in robots and fish and onions?
Well, certainly not an angel topper.
I stood there, sadly holding the tree-topper angel. We had been laughing and joking during the tree decoration, and putting this wholesome angel atop our robo-onion-fish display seemed like an anti-climactic ending to the whole thing.
“Let’s do something different,” I said. “Guys, go find me something new to put on top of the tree.”
Their eyes lit up and before I knew it, the kids were tearing through the house on a scavenger hunt for an unconventional tree-topper. It didn’t take long for a winner to emerge, as my 11-year old son presented me with Chef Polcari, our resident hand puppet (don’t ask).
Voila.
My God.
He was glorious.
There sat Chef Polcari in all his splendor, giving a happy THUMBS UP to his new perch, and exclaiming “AMERRY- ACHRISTMAS” in a classic Mario accent.
A new tradition was born.
Every year following, the kids would cycle through turns on picking the tree topper. The tree of 2015 was adorned with this lovely squid hat:
I don’t know where the squid hat came from or why we had a squid hat, to begin with, but Mr. Squid was the overseer that year of Christmas morning.
Then came the squirrel mask.
This was a Christmas present to my son during Squid Christmas, so it only seemed fitting that this should be the next tree topper.
Unfortunately, it was my youngest boy’s turn the year after that and, well, boys will be boys and we must abide by the rules of the yearly tradition so:
Yep. That’s a poop emoji hat.
It is now clear to me that we need to stop letting my kids buy their own headgear. Also note the placement of the onion and, of course, Cthulu amidst all the festive ornaments on our tree.
That year, we took the family to Mexico and, unbeknownst to us at the time, returned home with the tree topper for the following year:
Nothing says “Happy Holidays” like a Lucidor mask wearing a New Year’s top hat. Again, we need to stop letting the kids pick out their own hats and stuff.
The next year was the most terrifying of them all:
This is a picture of my kids decorating the tree with, yes, a giant baby head perched on top. This was a Halloween mask that one of the kids bought and never used.
It was fantastic. We were dying laughing.
That is, until we turned the tree on at night, at which point this became the most horrifying tree topper of all time:
You are very much welcome for the nightmares.
This brings me to the year 2020 and the hell of Covid-19. Of course, we needed to do something specifically to commemorate this event. This one was my wife’s turn and I think she nailed it:
This article may linger for years so as a reminder, there was a massive toilet paper shortage during the start of the pandemic. It only seemed fitting that it sit upon the top of our tree to mark the end of that miserable year. Please note the “CANCELLED” cruise postcard just below, used as an ornament to also celebrate everything that didn’t happen in 2020.
What started as a whimsical idea has evolved into something that everyone in the house looks forward to. We’ve had arguments about who gets to choose the topper for each year but, in the end, everyone usually agrees on the outcome. I think the poo was the biggest controversial topper, but this year may put that decision to shame.
This year is my turn.
I can’t wait to see Michael in a Santa Hat.
UPDATE:
So it has been written, so it has been done.
As a bonus, I also think we scored next year’s Christmas Card design out of this.
Merry Michael Christmas, everyone.
(1) Pew Research, 2017 Study, https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/12/18/5-facts-about-christmas-in-america/
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This post was previously published on Medium.com
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