The tree was decorated in record time, and I’m not sure how. My husband’s mother presented him with an ornament each Christmas, throughout childhood, and continued the tradition with me once I became wife, and only stopped after the birth of our second child, because there was no room for them on the tree.

As the oldest of 8, I’ve longed for ease around the holidays, long before I became a mother, so I might have been pleased, and relieved, and overjoyed, at how effortlessly our tree was adorned this night.

I looked around the livingroom and saw that we were all grown. The boys both taller than me. Both drinking eggnog from grown-up glasses.

I felt a bit sad.

My older son–who had to be dragged through holiday rituals in his teen years–participated without struggle. In fact, he over-participated. Ornaments flew from the table to the tree with a…