All the candies are gone. Dracula, the princesses, skeletons, witches – all the spooky little visitors have vanished back into the night. The very next morning, I stopped by the supermarket near my house. As I stepped inside, still feeling that post-Halloween calm, I froze ! Right at the entrance stood a giant Advent calendar display.
Already? I thought. We just finished Halloween! I mean, I still have pumpkins sitting in my fridge! That moment made me smile — a little reminder of how quickly the seasons turn. One day it’s candy and costumes, the next it’s twinkling lights and jingling bells.
When I became a mom, the Advent calendar was a brand-new concept for me. In Thailand, where I grew up, we didn’t have this tradition of counting down to Christmas with tiny daily surprises. Back then, the biggest celebration was New Year’s, full of family, friends, food, and fireworks.
Christmas only started to appear in my life when I was a teenager, not at home, but in department stores. I still remember visiting “Central Silom” with my mom. It was one of the few big stores in Bangkok at that time, and stepping inside felt like walking into another world. The air was cool, filled with the voices of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, and The Carpenters, all singing about white Christmases — quite funny when you’re standing there in the middle of tropical Bangkok heat!
I can still picture the decorations: red, green, and golden ornaments shimmering under the lights. The gift-wrapping counter was my favorite; ladies carefully folded crimson wrapping paper and tied perfect golden ribbons while shoppers wandered quietly, picking presents for their loved ones. It wasn’t loud or busy like shopping malls today. It was gentle, almost magical in its calmness. That’s how I first felt Christmas, not through snow or carols at home, but through this quiet, heartfelt beauty inside a store.
Still, I had never heard of the Advent calendar. The closest thing I knew was the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” But of course, that’s only twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany, not twenty-four from the first of December to Christmas Eve!
I don’t remember exactly when I started buying Advent calendars for my children. Probably when they were old enough to understand the joy of opening those tiny doors each morning. At first, they were toy versions LEGO or Playmobil. Every day, a little figurine would appear, and the kids’ eyes would light up with excitement.
As they grew, the calendars changed too, from toys to chocolates, then from chocolates to small gifts like lip balm or nail polish, depending on what they were into that year. But gradually, the sparkle faded. In recent years, I’ve noticed the same pattern: by December 10th or 12th, half the doors are open… and then no one touches it again until Christmas Eve.
It made me wonder ; does the magic of the Advent calendar belong only to childhood? Maybe the older we get, the less thrilled we become by small surprises. Growing up somehow dulls that simple wonder – the ability to find joy in the little things, to laugh over nothing, to feel excited just because it’s a new day. I don’t know when that shift happens, or why. But sometimes, I miss it : that innocent happiness we once felt over something so small.
Still, I hope my children will keep rediscovering that feeling in their own ways. Maybe not through an Advent calendar, but through other small joys : a cozy morning, a kind word, a shared laugh.
As for me? I’m still waiting for my Advent calendar this year. And no, “The Twelve Days of Christmas” won’t cut it.
Mine’s a full 24 days. Every single one of them — because maybe that’s how we keep a little bit of magic alive.
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