Wishes and Promises

Rather than make resolutions, in this house we make wishes and promises.  I'm not sure what the inspiration was, but four years ago, I got out a jar, scraps of paper, and some birthday candles for our new tradition.  Z was 3 and X was 1, so I must have thought this would be best explained in terms of birthdays--it was the new year's birthday, so we made ice cream with sprinkles and whipped cream with a candle on top.  Before blowing out the candles, we make a wish and a promise, rather than trying to explain what a resolution is.  After these are written on the scraps and put in the jar, the kids blow out the year's birthday candles, and we wait to see what happens next year.  

This is the best part--seeing what came true of previous years.  Last year, Z wished for a pink and purple sparkly bike which appeared on her birthday. X promised not to wear pull-ups to bed anymore which I had completely forgotten was only a year ago.  Many of our own wishes and promises have come true as well like our Disneyland trip and building the shop.  The magic of our little tradition is they are put in the jar, with the candles for next year, and they are largely forgotten. Yet each New Year's Eve we open the jar and lo and behold, our wishes came true, our promises were kept.  They don't loom like some resolution never to be kept. The tradition of resolutions has been around since ancient Babylonia in their March planting ritual, but it wasn't until Julius Caesar that we began to make them in January, named for the two-faced god Janus who looked back at the past and forward to the future.  Maybe it's his two-faced nature that makes resolutions impossible to keep; we can't be constantly stuck in the past if we want the future to be different. Instead we make ourselves and loved ones a promise, we wish for what we dream of most, and put it out there with the child-like innocence that knows they will come true. ​