A Christmas Story, a leg lamp, childhood dreams, and why this movie never really leaves us

*Somehow this movie eventually became an actual place for me.*

There are certain Christmas movies you plan to watch.
And then there are the ones that just… happen.

For me, A Christmas Story falls squarely into the second category.

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I don’t remember the first time I saw it. I just know that at some point in adulthood, it became tradition—because it played all day on TV (TNT, I believe). You’d catch one scene, then another, and suddenly you were watching the whole thing again.

Every year.
Same movie.
Same lines.
Same laughs.

And apparently… the same props started showing up in my life.

The Leg Lamp (Yes, That One)

One Christmas—long before Amazon made everything instantly available—I gave my husband a full-size leg lamp.

Not a mini version.
Not a joke replica.
The full, glorious, glowing leg.

This was before it was trendy to have one. Before everyone had one. Before you could just click add to cart.

Fast forward a few years and we went through a very friendly, mutual, “let’s move on” divorce. We agreed on just about everything.

Except one thing.

Who gets the leg lamp?

After some intense discussion, we came to a very logical conclusion:
I had a better place to display it.

So yes—I kept the leg lamp.

Where the Leg Lamp Lives Now

These days, that same leg lamp proudly lives in the front window of Winning Edge Graphics during the holidays.

A friend of mine recently drove by, stopped, and took a picture of it because… well… when you see a glowing leg lamp in a business window, you kind of have to.

Some businesses have neon signs.
Some have festive wreaths.
We have… this.

Apparently this is our brand now—and honestly, I’m okay with it.

The Bunny Suit (An Ongoing Tradition)

You know the pink bunny suit from the movie?

Yes. That one.

I own one.

And this is not a new development.

The bunny suit has been making appearances for years. Every Christmas, it resurfaces—whether anyone asks for it or not. It’s not a one-time joke. It’s a recurring character.

Most recently, my great-nephew bravely wore it and officially joined the tradition. But trust me… this suit has history.

Some families pass down heirlooms.
Some pass down stories.
Some pass down… a pink bunny suit.

The Decoder Ring (Now a Lifetime Commitment)

*A crummy commercial… customized for Diet Coke.*

This year—on my November birthday my stepdaughter sent me something special.

A decoder.

Yes—that kind of decoder.

Along with it came a coded message that, once decoded, read:

“Robyn, don’t forget to drink your Ovaltine… or Diet Coke.”

Which is funny for two reasons:

“Be sure to drink your Ovaltine” may be one of the greatest letdowns in movie history.
When the kids were younger and came to stay with us, I was a bit of a Diet Coke addict.

They were welcome to anything in the fridge…
Just never take the last Diet Coke.

Apparently, that rule made a lasting impression.

The best part? She told me to save the decoder—because now, every year on my birthday, she’s going to send me a new coded message.

She’s in her 30s.

This is officially a lifelong subscription.

And Then… Cleveland Happened

*Watching A Christmas Story… inside A Christmas Story.*

This past year, my brother-in-law and I took a trip to Cleveland.

And yes—we spent the night in A Christmas Story House.

The actual house.
The one from the movie.

We sat in the living room, watching A Christmas Story… on TV… inside the house… while people outside were stopping to take pictures of the leg lamp glowing in the front window.

And as if that wasn’t enough…

I slept in Ralphie’s bedroom.
In Ralphie’s bed.

(Obviously not the actual bed from the movie—but the bedroom that was Ralphie’s.)

There is something wildly surreal about climbing into bed in a room you’ve seen on screen for years and thinking, Well… this is happening.

It was ridiculous.
It was joyful.
And it was a memory I’ll never forget.

Why This Movie Still Sticks

What I love most about A Christmas Story is what sneaks in, between the laughs.

Ralphie never gives up on his dream — even when every adult rolls their eyes, warns him off, or tells him it’s not realistic. He keeps believing anyway.

The family isn’t perfect.
They’re loud. They’re messy. Dinner doesn’t go as planned.
But there’s love in the chaos — and humor in the everyday moments.

And in the end, when Ralphie finally gets his BB gun, it’s not flashy or dramatic. It’s quiet. It’s simple. It’s a kid holding onto a dream long enough to see it come true.

That’s probably why this movie stays with me.

It reminds me that dreams matter — even the ones that seem silly.
That families don’t have to be perfect to be full of love.
And that laughter has a way of carrying us through the messiest moments.

P.S.
My niece called and informed me that our family celebration the Saturday after Christmas will include Chinese food.

As it should.

Fa ra ra ra ra… ra ra ra raaaa. 🎄💛

Some Movies Don’t Just Get Watched… They Move In