We were at the dentist—just a routine cleaning for the kids—when the hygienist asked if we’d ever been to the Polar Express. I hadn’t even heard of it. But that night, I looked it up, fell in love with the idea, and messaged our friends and cousin to see if they’d want to coordinate a date. That little conversation turned into something bigger—it’s now a treasured annual tradition for our family.

On Polar Express day, we all wake up and slip into fresh pajamas. Not everyone wears them, but we like to go all in. There’s something magical about stepping onto that train with the kids in their PJs, hearts wide open and eyes glowing with anticipation. The performance, the atmosphere—it wasn’t just enchanting for the kids. It brought the magic of Christmas alive for us adults too.

There’s a fleeting window where our kids still believe in wonder. Where their innocence wraps around moments like these. And I want to savor every ounce of it. Stretch time. Let the magic linger.

After the train ride, we always head to a nearby restaurant with our crew—still in pajamas, getting curious glances and a few chuckles. That first year, while we were eating, the waitress came by and told us a couple who had just left had paid $100 toward our meal. No note. No names. Just kindness.

That’s the power of believing. Sometimes, magic shows up even after the train ride ends.