Growing up on Sunday mornings, all us kids used to gravitate to my parent's bedroom and snuggle in or pull up some rug with a bit of the Sunday paper or a book, and read for a good while. That's a favorite tradition that I surely miss. As we snuggled and read, I'd hear: "I finished the book.' from various corners of the room as my brothers finished up their books, and my mom would say: "Another Country Hear From."
I guess traditions don't have to make much sense, just be enjoyable. A book I'm reading currently, "The Omnivore's Dilemna" makes a strong case for family traditions around the dinner table.
Thanks,
Grinity
