Beloved family traditions don't always start with being beloved. Muffin day was hell at first. I hated it. My husband started Muffin Day in 2009, when our first daughter started kindergarten, and her younger sister joined them two years later. They experienced Muffin Day. I didn't do it. For me, muffin day meant rushing lunches together before dawn. We lived 20 minutes from the school, which made our usual morning even earlier. While my husband showered, I reluctantly dragged the sleeping little girls from their warm beds, leading to whining, threats of being late, and all around muffin morning woe. Blissfully unaware of the darker side of muffin day, a whistling, clean-shaven muffin day creator has arrived. the kitchen to collect her two angels with backpacks, shoes and jackets to bounce with the excitement of muffin day. (At least that's my point of view). Horns digging into our heads, we all waved goodbye and blew kisses, no matter how tense the muffin mornings were. Van Halen banged and vibrated from the car long after I could see them. A feeling of peace came over me, then remorse for my lack of patience and the nastiness with which I had thrown them out. I can still improve this. I attended two muffin days because I was invited, which seemed suspicious to me. My saccharine images of muffin-day smiles and chocolate-colored ponytails bouncing on Dad's lap were burned when my husband pulled out a stopwatch. Time and time again, he pressed them to spell words each week. Is it muffin day? Is it fun? I told him it was “no fun” and sad. He laughed. One Friday while he was out of town, I tried my version of muffin day. “Let’s each try a muffin we’ve never had.” It’s good to try new things,” Dimples disappeared as my youngest daughter said... middle of paper ...... with her son. They even know the dogs: Maggie and Angel who wait patiently outside while their owners grab a takeaway cup of coffee. They told me a lot of stories about these people in passing. As I walked away from Muffin Day, I caught a glimpse through the window of my seven-year-old daughter's chocolate-colored ponytail bouncing in the air. She turns eight this month, and this could be the last bounce on her daddy's lap. Sometimes beloved family traditions don't start out as beloved. It took me five years to fall in love with muffin day. As much as I would love to join them every week, a mother knows when to take a step back. It's their time. In a crazy, busy life, I don't stop enough to look at my husband in amazement. I did it today. Muffin Day is a gift he created for all of us. I pray that one day they'll be sitting there on the Friday before their wedding..