the Christmas Protocol

christmas protocol

Even though, the forsaken holiday has passed, I’d liked to revisit an article I wrote a few years ago about  what I then called “Fadderly’s Christmas theory.”   That particular article has been the basis of the annual your friendly neighborhood jman’s almost internet famous Christmastime Spectaculas.  But, it’s the heart of the first article, that I want to revisit.  Which, iknowiknowiknow I should’ve done pre-holiday, but you still might find the knowledge I’mma bout to impart useful not just round Christmastime, but any kind of holiday/family gathering.

The other reason I bring it up now, instead of pre-holiday, is for re-branding purposes.  See, my brother, the pope of cookietown (check out his royal funniness on twitter) decided to come up with a very clever name for the Christmas Theory.  On Christmas day, of all days. Hence…article revisitation.

christmas protocol

During this past Christmas at my folks house, the Pope unceremoniously re-dubbed “Fadderly’s Christmas theory”…“the Christmas Protocol”.  What a delightful ring it has.  “The Christmas Protocol”.  So, from this moment forward, your friendly neighborhood jman proclaims “Fadderly’s Christmas theory” shall be known as “the Christmas Protocol”.

You may kiss the bride. thanks?!?!?
ugh…no thanks?!?!?

What is the now christened Christmas Protocol and why should you give shit one about it?  Well…I’ll tell ya:

One Christmas, many moons ago, on our way to my folks house for Christmas dinner, Jethro and Jake decided to have yet another stupid argument about…probably the country’s reluctance to accept the metric system.

Instead of screaming them stupid (yet again) the big guy upstairs sent me down some well timed wisdom.  I turned to my children and said 1:

“It’s Christmas day. I don’t want to be yelling at any of you.  I want to have a good time at Mumums, too. So, let’s make a deal here. Don’t make me be a “dad” today, ok? I really don’t care what you do. Eat as many cookies as you want. Eat cookies for dinner. I don’t care. You know the rules at Mumum’s. I’m not gonna remind you. You’re free to do whatever you want today, just DO NOT do anything that makes me be a dad.”

so help me, i'll throw the tree in the trash right now!
so help me, i’ll throw the tree in the trash right now!

“In fact,” I continued. “It would be best if whatever room I’m in, you be in the room furthest from it.” I looked at each of them. “If we pass one another in a room, it’s: “Hello! How are you?” and we politely move along. Let’s pretend we’re all just roommates, got it?

“I don’t want to be “dad” for the next few hours.” Yes, I repeated myself. You have to say these things multiple times to kids before it sinks in. “I just want to be your friendly neighborhood Jman, ok?” I made eye contact with each of them. Again. “Understand? Are we in agreement, here?”

There was a quiet rumble of consent. “I am warning all of you, though. I want everyone to have a good time, but, there will be serious hell to pay if I have to speak to a one of you about your behavior. Serious hell to pay. Got it?”

So…what’s your take away from all this?

Sometimes…we just gotta let the kids be kids.  Let them be stupid if not once in awhile, then once a year.  It’ll be fine.  They know the rules.  Go have a good time.  And let them have a good time, too.  Every little thing will be alright.  I promise…

you got that right, mon!
you got that right, mon!


Speaking of Christmas, if we could give a lil less cred to Santa Claus, maybe the holiday wouldn’t be so stressful…

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Images courtesy of:

Zombie bride:

christmas tree in trash:

Dog Marley:


  1. Paraphrasing of course

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