This morning, around 6 AM, I heard crooning coming from my daughter’s bathroom. She likes to play music while she gets ready for school, so it’s not unusual for our house to sound like a concert hall before sunrise. But this time, it wasn’t Taylor Swift or Olivia Rodrigo. It was Bing Crosby dreaming about a White Christmas.

She must get her love of Christmas music from my mom. I remember hating getting into the gray minivan around the holidays because my mom would drag out her old Christmas cassette tapes and play them on repeat. It took me until my Thirties, and having a kid of my own, to appreciate those classic songs. Don’t tell my mom, but I’ve actually searched for those exact tapes on my streaming apps because there’s just something about those deep cut vintage Christmas tunes tha

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