ERIXLAND

We don’t buy our kids toys for Christmas—and people think that means something is missing.

In the United States, it’s pretty normal to spend six weeks reminding your kids that Santa is watching… and that one wrong move could land them on the naughty list.

And yes—our kids can be a little naughty.
But that’s not why we don’t buy toys for Christmas.

(cue the internal monologue.)
“Oh… these guys must be broke.”

No. That’s not it either.
Although—

(Focus, Eric. This isn’t a panhandling session.)

We don’t wake up to a battlefield of wrapping paper torn across the living room on Christmas morning.
Instead, we loaded up Django—our red truck—and headed to the North Pole.

🎄 The North Pole (Midwest Edition)

Well… our kids thought it was the North Pole.
In reality, we were at Bass Pro Shops. Experiencing the magical essence of Christmas felt in every corner.
Which—if we’re being honest—might be more like the South Pole. Midwest edition.

It was a full-on winter wonderland. We rode the free carousel until our hearts were full, and the kids got to meet Santa.
Not mall Santa—Bass Pro Santa.
The kind that feels like a core memory. Not like the movie Bad Santa.

We got a photo with Santa too—and it did not go how Instagram would’ve preferred.

Rosalia was screaming. Full protest. No confusion about how she felt.

📸 Two Photos, Same Day

I joked that she must’ve just found out she was on the naughty list.

The scene captured our first photo of Christmas that year.

A few minutes later, after some regrouping and a deep breath or two, we tried again.

Same Santa. Same spot. Same kids.

This time we got the perfect IG photo.

Both photos are real. One just fits the algorithm better.

👶 One Tiny Tear

Later that day, Isabella—our three-month-old—got her ears pierced.
And yes… she cried the whole time.

Here’s a photo of her right after. One tiny tear still sitting on her cheek.
Not staged. Not cute in the moment. Just real.

🍜 A Billboard Decision

With winter days being short, we decided to head back home—a quiet 50-minute drive ahead of us.

Somewhere along the way, we saw a billboard for Japanese ramen.

We looked at each other and said, “Oh yeah… that needs to happen for Christmas dinner.”

No plan. No debate. Just turning the wheel and letting the night unfold.

There was a moment right then—rolling down the highway—where everything felt simple. Like a movie you don’t want to end. Just life happening in front of you instead of being managed.

Days like that feel rare. And when I catch myself wondering why life can’t always feel that way, I usually realize the answer is simple:

I don’t always let it.

So there we were—eating Japanese food in the middle of Missouri.
The kids working through a bento box. Erika with a bowl of ramen.
I ordered appetizers for the table and skipped a full meal.

Gotta keep this dad bod in check.

After a long day like that, the Pepsi tasted sweeter for some reason.

🏠 Nothing Was Missing

When we finally got home, no one asked where the toys were.
No one felt like anything was missing from our Christmas celebration.

We went to bed with full hearts.

That’s why we don’t buy our kids toys for Christmas.
Not because toys are bad—
but because moments are what stay.

I learned that the hard way.
When my grandma died.

What did Christmas look like in your house this year?
Toys, traditions, chaos, quiet—whatever it was, I’d love to hear it.

If you are new here check out our Origin story.