I have perhaps the lamest family tradition in all the vast history of Christmas. Ever since I was a wee child, my mother and father have bought insanely stupid Christmas t-shirts for everyone in the family, forced us to wear them all Christmas morning, and then take a picture of everyone in their stupid shirts in front of the fireplace. This hasn’t happened just once or twice, but on EVERY Christmas since I was born. There are even pictures of me and my sister wearing these things as babies.

I’m 19 years old now, and my sister is 17. We’re both in college and out of the house, so we had to travel all the way across the state in order to attend Christmas at my parents house. We both attend the same college, so I drove the both of us there. On the way, my sister just looks at me and says, “I’m not doing the Christmas t-shirts thing again this year. Mom said she’s putting them on Facebook. I’ll die.”

What? Mom knows how to use Facebook now? I vaguely remember a late night when I accepted a friend request from her, laughing at how silly the thought of her on Facebook was. The whole thing seemed much less funny now. We rode along in silence for a long while before I looked at her and replied, “Yeah. That is absurd. There is no way I’m going to let her ruin my life with those Christmas t-shirts of hers. This is the year we make a stand.” We both steeled our nerves and considered the implications of our decision.

We arrived with gifts in tow. Everyone was already there, so I had to go through the long gauntlet of hugs from aunts and uncles that I only see once a year. My grandmother still insists on pinching me, so I had to endure through that as well. I knew I could relax because the Christmas t-shirts never come out until the end of the night, and there were hours yet and a big meal to eat before that time came. I enjoyed the food and the family a great deal, ate my pie, and had lots of fun with the kids playing Xbox.

Mom had lured me into a false sense of safety. She was quite crafty like that, I had learned over the years. She stopped me on my up the stairs and held out the dreaded thing to me. The Christmas t-shirts this year were a bright red with rhinestone snowflakes all over the front. Rhinestones were the worst, and this was the first time she had gotten them. I guess the extra money was worth the extra shame it would cause me. I smiled weakly and went upstairs, wondering how I would break it to mom that I was not going to do the picture this year.

My sister was in her room, sitting there with an expression on her face that I knew was very similar to mine. She held up her shirt and I held up mine in response and we both sighed. I spoke up, defeated, “You know it will kill mom if we refuse to do the picture. We have to do it. We have no choice, or we’re terrible human beings.” I only got a nod from her, but at least she agreed. I perked up a bit, “Maybe we can turn it around in our favor, or something. Make a joke of it on Facebook?” The only response I got that time was her door closed in my face. Good job mother…you’ve beaten us once again with your Christmas t-shirts.

To fill your brain about funny Christmas t-shirts go to naughty Christmas t-shirts to see how it’s done right.

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