10 Memory-Making Moments to Plan Ahead for This Year

We always say we want to “make memories,” but in real life that usually happens in between errands, meltdown naps, and last-minute grocery runs. The secret is planning for a few small moments instead of hoping they magically appear.

You don’t need a list of 40 activities. If you pick a handful of things and give them a date and time, they’re much more likely to happen—and your kids will remember them.

Decorating the tree slowly instead of rushing

Instead of throwing decorations up as fast as possible, plan one evening where you’re not also cooking a big meal or running out the door. Turn on music, pull out the boxes, and let everyone help, even if it means ornaments are clumped together.

You can quietly adjust later if you need to. The memory is you all doing it together, not the perfect spacing of the ornaments.

Baking one thing together, start to finish

Pick one recipe that fits your life right now—cookies, bars, fudge, or even a boxed mix—and block out a time to do it. Let kids stir, pour, and taste (as reasonable).

You don’t have to turn it into a marathon baking day. One thing you actually finish and enjoy together will be remembered a lot more than ten trays you stressed your way through.

A planned Christmas movie night

Instead of random watching, choose one night for a “big” movie: favorite Christmas film, popcorn, pillows on the floor, and phones out of reach. Put it on the calendar so everyone knows it’s coming.

It doesn’t matter if the movie is old or new. What they’ll remember is all of you piled together doing the same thing at the same time.

Driving to look at lights

Circle an evening on the calendar for a lights drive. Pajamas, blankets in the car, simple drinks or snacks if you can manage it. Keep the route short and realistic for your kids’ ages.

It feels intentional when you present it as “Tonight is our light drive night” instead of “Let’s just go look at a few houses since we’re already out.”

A “yes” day for simple kid ideas

Pick a day where you gather a few suggestions from your kids—build a fort, drink cocoa, play a board game, read by the tree—and do as many as you reasonably can at home.

You’re not letting them run the entire schedule, but you are showing them that their ideas matter and making room for their kind of fun.

Reading by the tree at night

Plan a night where you turn off everything but the tree and read a stack of picture books or a few chapters of a longer story. No music, no TV, just quiet.

Even if it’s only thirty minutes, the combination of soft light and your voice is the kind of thing kids carry with them long after they’ve forgotten half their gifts.

A simple Christmas photo in the same spot

Choose a day—maybe after church, or the night of your movie—and take a family photo in the same place each year. You don’t need matching outfits. You just need everyone in the frame.

Over time, flipping back through those yearly shots will feel more meaningful than any one “perfect” picture ever could.

A “kids choose dinner” night

Pick a date and let kids choose dinner plus one silly side or dessert from what you’re willing to buy or already have. Present it as part of Christmas, not a random Tuesday.

They’ll remember the fun of eating something a little offbeat and the feeling of being heard more than the specific menu.

One act of kindness outside your house

Choose one day to do something thoughtful for someone else: drop off cookies, write cards, take cocoa to a neighbor, or leave a note and some snacks for delivery drivers. Put it on the calendar.

That one planned act of kindness can quietly anchor the whole season and give your kids a picture of Christmas that isn’t just about receiving.

A year-in-review conversation

Sometime during the week after Christmas, sit down and talk about the year. Highs, lows, funny moments, surprising blessings. Write a few down if you want.

It doesn’t have to be deep or heavy. You’re teaching your family to notice the story of their own lives instead of letting it blur together.