I don't recall the exact year it started, but my daughter was maybe 3 or 4 years old when, on Christmas Eve, I realized I hadn't bought enough stuff to adequately fill her Christmas stocking.
I rushed through the house, searching for something that would take up some room. There, on the bathroom counter, was a brand new can of shaving cream. Since Celeste was generally fascinated with the puffy foam, I figured having a full can to herself would be perfect.
The next morning, when she dumped out her stocking, she squealed.
"Look what Santa gave me!"
Out of everything she got that year, the "toy" she wanted to play with first was that shaving cream.
Which is how a can of shaving cream in her stocking became a tradition. (This year, I'm considering mixing things up a bit by spraying the stocking full of shaving cream and getting her to close her eyes before reaching in.)
This kind of silliness is my favorite part of the holidays, and I spoke with several from our area who have odd, yet cherished, family traditions of their own. For instance, my former coworker, Lu Ann Phillips, said her family has one cardboard box that manages to make an appearance each year.
"I don't know how many layers of tape it has," says Phillips, "but the tape is the only thing holding it together."
The tradition for Robin Asbury and her aunt, Phillis Jean, started with a fruitcake. Every Christmas, they find new ways to trade it back and forth.
"It went into the freezer every year," wrote Asbury of Pittsburgh. "Then I had the idea to turn it into a candleholder. I baked that sucker on low heat for hours, varnished it, drilled holes for three candles, and completed it with red tapers, pine and holly. I think that Christmas was the only time I saw my aunt at a loss for words."
I heard about another family that's kept the same fruitcake going back and forth for over 30 years. One time, the fruitcake was packaged, suspended inside Jell-O. Another time it was baked into a loaf of bread. Once, during Christmas dinner, the fruitcake was lowered on twine from the ceiling.
With Natalie Sypolt, of Morgantown, it's a giant, smelly candle that she and her uncle take turns re-gifting.
"Several years ago," said Sypolt, "we started doing things to the candle. For example, one year I burned it a little; another year, he carved some words into the side of it. We also try to get creative with wrapping so you never know which gift it's going to be."
That kind of tradition would've been a bit tough to get started in Phyllis Wilson Moore's family, since her father got in the practice of giving his gifts away right in front of the giver.
"It became such a hoot my brother started doing it," said Moore of Clarksburg. "Dad would say he didn't need whatever the gift was, and then the son and sons-in-law would then say they wanted it. Lots of wallets, ties and handkerchiefs were up for grabs."
She said the first couple of years, it wasn't all that funny, but as time went by, it became something they cracked up over and embraced. She said they'd get more creative with his gifts, like a jar of pickled pigs' feet, but he still couldn't be tempted. He kept nothing.
One of my favorites involves a family that's started a tradition of wrapping a loaded Nerf gun and putting it among the gifts under their tree.
"Whoever unwraps it immediately starts shooting at everyone else," wrote Terry of Hagerstown. "The year we gave it to Mamaw was the best."
The tradition started many years back with a little gun that shot foam disks. "We had a few years the gun was forgotten," said Terry, "and then I guess it was found again and the whole thing came back with a vengeance. We have something of an arsenal of Nerf weapons now. I'm waiting for the year when we all open one at the same time. That'll be interesting."
And it's something I'd like to be there to see.
Karin Fuller can be reached via email at karinfuller@gmail.com.