We have a rule in our house: no Christmas carols before December 1. This self-imposed law has to be enforced because three-quarters of our family (all the people with XX chromosomes) have an unabashed love of the genre. We are a tree-decorating, Mariah Carey-belting, advent calendar-opening, mistletoe-hanging lot. We love Christmas*.
How fortuitous, then, that our firstborn was delivered to us – not a wise man in sight – on Christmas Eve.