Family rituals

[pegkerr]

Tell me about one family ritual that you do that means a lot to you. I'm asking about everyday rituals, not holiday or special occasion ones. It could be from the family you grew up with or the family you're in now--or even somebody else's family, if it is a ritual you like and admire. I'm looking for a list of the little things that families do that build together memories, cohesion, trust and love.

When Rob and the girls and I eat dinner together, we go around the table and each person says one good thing that happened that day.

Whenever I'm driving with the girls and we see crows, we recite the rhyme:

One crow sorrow
Two crows joy
Three crows a girl
Four crows a boy
Five crows silver
Six crows gold
Seven crows a secret never to be told

And you?

Comments

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

One of the things that sprang to mind when I saw this post was the fact that my childhood family used to eat breakfast together. I miss the luxury and regularity of sitting down at a table and eating together, even if none of us were competent to do more than grunt at each other.

It's oddly comforting to remember: every morning, we sat down to have cereal. Mom had her puffed rice, or whatever incredibly normal cereal she'd moved to, in a white china bowl. Dad had his inevitable corn flakes in a white china bowl as well. I had my Cheerios (mostly) in the bright-orange plastic bowls I'd had since I was waaay small, even after they'd gotten warped by the dishwasher. We all sat around, ate our breakfasts, and then Dad was off to the office and I was off to the school bus.

When I hit adolescence, this still happened, although very slightly altered. I was very sad the day Mom finally threw out the bright-orange plastic bowls and I reluctantly graduated to a white china bowl.

After I got to college, I kept eating breakfast every morning, just for the essential comfort of it, and fell easily into a ritual breakfast of French toast and milk. When I was home for summers, I returned to the family ritual (especially since my father and I worked at the same company plant my last two years, and so commuted together).

When I left for graduate school, the family ritual sort of came apart. I never ate breakfast at home regularly again; even now, I mostly grab something and go, if I do anything at all. My parents actually changed cereals eventually, and even experimented a little, although they've settled on a nut-and-honey corn flake type now.

They still have the white china bowls.