My family has a lot of Christmas traditions, mostly passed down from my mom. I’ve talked before about making presents, a thing I’m doing my best to pass along to my kids. I’ve talked about the movies and the music, if not here than on the old LiveJournal. Someday I’ll talk about the candy making and the books. Tonight, I want to talk about the oranges.

When I was very little, I was given a book. It was a book about a baby bear discovering all the best smells of Christmas and the very best smell wasn’t the pine of the tree or the sweet of the cookie or the bright mint of the candy cane. The very best smell was the orange in the stocking. I always agreed with Tiny Tim from my favorite Christmas movie ever (Scrooge), I would always rather have the oranges. I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t an orange in my stocking when I was very small.

During some of those years, we lived in Washington. I was about 7 when I first discovered the tiny, super sweet, peel in one orange ribbon Japanese oranges (sort of like what they call Cuties now but smaller). I could eat an entire crate of them all by myself. It remains to this day the only food outside of coffee that I ever asked for for Christmas. There was at least one year where I got my box of oranges (and I didn’t even have to share them!).

As I got older, the oranges turned chocolate. Neither of my kids took to oranges early so their oranges started out chocolate but they are there, without fail on Christmas morning.

I still have my copy of the Sweet Smell of Christmas though the scratch and sniffs have long since faded. My kids have a copy too, though I doubt they’ve read it in a few years, I bet at least the youngest could still recite it.


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