I have some family traditions. Honking the horn when you cross the state line. Calling out the name of a body of water (when you're on a road trip) and expecting everyone else in the car to call it out, too. Things like that. (There are more than I can list...more than I can even think of!)
On Friday, we colored eggs. I grew up doing American Eggs, with the rainbow colors...aaaaand the Latvian Eggs, with the onion skin dye and the natural nature stuff for the variety.
My dear husband did his 2 or 3 Latvian Eggs, and colored about 18 of the American Eggs. He wrote witty things on the eggs in crayon beforehand and then dipped them in the dye. This was the part he enjoyed the most.
When I asked him if he didn't want to do more Latvian Eggs before I threw the dye away, he looked up from some invisible wit he was inscribing on an egg and said (lovingly, but factually): "No. I did those three for you. Cause I love you."
I love, in our marriage, that we can be that honest about traditions and habits. It's ok that he doesn't loooooove doing Latvian Eggs, and it's ok that he was honest about it. To be honest like that makes me happy, and it makes me trust people more.
Have a nice day.