At this time of year, we all start trotting out those old family traditions, dusting off the deeds of our ancestors and following the steps.

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While some may cherish these things and have darned good reasons for participating in them, to me they always reeked of putting on an old set of clothes that hadn't been washed in years and padding around.

That's starting to change, though, with a young'un on the way. But there are some things that may need a bit of tweaking.

For instance, when I was a little tadger, my older brother and sister and I all got "themed" ornaments each year to add to the tree. My brother got drums or drummer boys, my sister got angels and I got Santa Claus figures. My brother grew up to be a semi-successful musician, my sister grew up Catholic and I grew up fat. So let's just say we'll be more careful with Little's ornament theme. Briefcases, maybe.

(By the way, we don't know if the babe's a boy or a girl, and don't want to, thus "Little" is the name for now.)

And I want to start some new, success-oriented traditions. I figure this is what Donald Trump's parents must have done ... although we'll skip the tragic haircut. In fine capitalist tradition, we'll buy up 10 of whatever the year's hottest toy is, and Little can peddle them to friends to make money to buy the rest of the presents.

And there'll be no silly Christmas dressing-up traditions. No fake reindeer antlers. No blinking red noses. And absolutely NO elf ears! I might allow a pair of sedately festive red socks, as long as they're worn with a pair of stout brogans.

As far as singing, our caroling will be confined to nondenominational songs at least 75 years old. "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" will be barred from all speakers within the house, and I plan to lobby Clear Channel to drop it from all station playlists. Certain modern selections, such as Elvis singing "Blue Christmas," will be allowed in moderation.

Food will be another area of serious amendment. When I was young, breakfast on Christmas morning usually consisted of Entenmann's coffee cake heated and slathered with as much real butter as it could soak up. Ideally, there would be a little pool of unabsorbed butter left on the plate. See the Christmas ornament paragraph above for a description of how successful that little tradition was.

Little will have some nice whole-bran muffins and some fresh fruit. Santa will have to get by on veggie chips and skim milk. No cookies!

And if you believe any of this rot, you've obviously gotten far too deep into the spiked egg nog. I plan to drape my holiday in every bit of kitsch I can lay my paws on, and nauseate everyone with pictures of Little in various holiday costumes. Cookies will be consumed in profusion, and the Muppet Christmas album will be on continuous loop.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cut this short. I've got to go throw more icicles on the tree and run a few hundred more twinkle lights across the roof.

Happy holidays to all of you. May the New Year begin brightly! I'll see you all after New Year's with my "Weird Year In Review" column!

Got Bigfoot in the bushes? Santa laying rubber in the driveway? Let me know. Large cash grants and professions of undying love are always accepted.

Previous Stories:

• Dec. 10, 2004: Grinching It Up
• Dec. 3, 2004: I Lost On 'Jeopardy,' Baby
• Nov. 19, 2004: Mustard Fans, Unite!
• Nov. 12, 2004: My Life As A Rennie
• Nov. 5, 2004: Why Can't They Be Like Us?
• Oct. 29, 2004: The Haunted Column
• Oct. 15, 2004: Going Ghost Hunting, Part 2
• Oct. 8, 2004: Going Ghost Hunting, Part 1
• Oct. 1, 2004: So Weird It's Scary
• Sep. 24, 2004: I'm A Lumberjack ...