As 2024 comes to a close, I am reminded of the time we found ourselves at my sister’s house one New Year’s Eve. The kids were running wild in the basement while the adults played board games upstairs, trying to stay awake until midnight.
I kid. There was no way we were staying awake until midnight. We were just trying to make it to our fake ball drop at 10 p.m.
At one point, I went downstairs to check on the kids. A few kids were glued to Elf, laughing hysterically as Buddy poured syrup on his spaghetti. Others were deep in an intense Nerf gun battle, shooting each other like they were in the climatic scene of an action movie. But my then 12-year-old son was nowhere in sight.
Curious, I peeked around a corner and spotted him and his friend sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by one of my sister’s nativity sets. Joseph, Mary, a shepherd, and all three Wise Men had been carefully lined up in neat stacks in front of the boys. Aww, I thought. How sweet. They’re still feeling the Christmas spirit.
But then…
“I’ll raise you a Baby Jesus,” my son said, sliding the tiny figurine across the carpet with the confidence of a Vegas shark.
Wait, what? They’re playing poker? With the nativity set?!
His friend squinted at his cards, furrowed his brow, and sighed. “Fine. I’ll match your Baby Jesus and throw in a sheep.”
A sheep! They were betting the livestock now, too.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or get mad. What was the parenting protocol here? Did I take away their cards? Or let the Baby Jesus betting pool play out?
To their credit, the boys seemed genuinely invested in their game, and I could tell no sacrilege was intended. But still, with my religious upbringing, I couldn’t exactly let them gamble with the Savior of the world.
I stepped forward, arms crossed. “Boys, what are you doing?”
My son looked up, shrugged, and said, “Playing poker.”
“With the nativity set?”
“It’s all we could find,” his friend chimed in.
I gestured toward the plethora of toys surrounding them. “You couldn’t use Iron Man? Or Legos?”
My son nodded. “Good point.”
They placed the nativity set figures back on the display table and swapped out Baby Jesus and the Holy Family for nearby toys.
“I’ll raise you a Pokémon,” my son said.
“I’ll match your Pokémon and will raise you a Matchbox car,” his friend replied.
Now every Christmas as I pull out our nativity sets from the attic and carefully unwrap each figure, I laugh and say to myself, “I’ll raise you a Baby Jesus.”
I’m guessing Baby Jesus is laughing too.
And with him on our side, I’d say we’ll always win this game called life.