Over the past couple of seasons, as we come up on Christmas, I’ve developed a loose tradition of talking Christmas movies, which leads us to talking about some of my favorites.

You read, faithfully, in the hopes that I will mention your favorite, flooding you with memories of youth and simpler times.

Right? Am I close? Too pretentious?

I say loose tradition, because relatively speaking, I haven’t been writing this column for too many years and also because I have the attention span of a ferret and have spent more than a few of these columns talking about the inane.

The low bar of human achievement is often set by one’s attention span and mine is dreadfully short.

So with all of that out of the way, let us review the homework.

We have, of course, talked about my all-time favorite, Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol,” and we’ve established that the best version is the 1984 George C. Scott version. This is not up for debate and those wishing to argue with me on this, let me help you settle it by saying, you are wrong.

The way Scott chews through the classic tale grinds through Christmas.

Simple.

We’ve also touched a little bit on the age old argument — is “Die Hard” A Christmas movie? This too isn’t up for debate and in case you are misguided enough to disagree with this as well … we’ll go a couple steps further.

The movie takes place during Christmas, a Christmas party to be specific, there’s Christmas music, and John McClane, played by Bruce Willis, gets into the Christmas spirit by taping a gun to his back with Christmas-themed tape in the big showdown with Hans Gruber, played so eloquently by Alan Rickman.

McClane even gives a special wish to the other terrorists with a note written on a dead terrorist. “Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho.”

Merry Christmas, am I right?

These are beyond debate at this point and not even Buster, giving me the stink-eye as I write this, can convince me otherwise.

Whoops, never mind, it’s almost breakfast time and it’s more of a threat than the stink-eye. He’s not worried about Hans Gruber apparently.

Normally, I don’t touch on Hallmark movies much because they are too sappy for me. I know there is a place for them in the holiday season, just not on my TV. Yep, too sappy for my hardened Christmas enjoyment.

I also don’t get into the movies much that played at our house during the season like “Miracle on 34th Street,” which indeed is a a classic, but it’s not for me. Same with “It’s a Wonderful Life,” though I can admit it’s got a special place in my heart. As a kid, my mom and I would always find time to watch Jimmy Stewart running through Bedford Falls, wishing that old Building and Loan building a Merry Christmas.

There are so many, I could probably just spend my time writing about those movies I’m familiar with: “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” “How The Grinch Stole Christmas,” among them.

But while were on the topic of traditions, let’s talk about “A Christmas Story.” In case you are unfamiliar with this movie, which considering TNT’s annual 24-hour marathon I’m not sure how you could be unfamiliar with it, the movie revolves around the holiday shenanigans of Ralphie and his quest to try and skew his parents toward giving him a Red Rider BB gun for Christmas. With a compass in the stock that tells time. Naturally.

Along the way he fights bullies, watches as a triple dog dare to lick a metal pole is issued, recites his favorite swear word “fuuuuudddggeeeee,” and comes to enjoy a certain lamp.

It’s a fantastical romp through the season through the eyes and the narration of a wide-eyed boy still thrilled with Christmas.

I began watching this movie on Christmas Eve day some years ago, largely left to my own devices as my girlfriend usually works each Christmas Eve.

So, thanks to the long-running marathon, I would watch several airings of the movie, usually picking up around about the time of Ralphie’s first run for school for some reason. I’ve never been able to pin down why I’m always starting with that point, just like I’m not always sure why lutefisk is a thing. The great mysteries of the world I guess.

As I go through the day, sometimes making a big meal, sometimes not, and sometimes burning something — another Christmas tradition — Ralphie’s adventure would be playing in the background and I would be giggling throughout.

Listening to the narration alone, the way it’s delivered and each adjective used makes for an enjoyable movie. In a lot of ways it’s the perfect tradition because at numerous times you see the dynamics of childhood Christmas innocence played against the often times trying moments of the parents, something I know that my parents dealt with often.

I’ve often admired their ability to hold the thin line of determined child against the deadline of Christmas. Often times my quest of discovering Christmas presents before the big unraveling on Christmas Day was akin to Indiana Jones.

Often with the help of two dogs or a couple cats, I would explore the forgotten corners of our house, investigating clues and searching dark spaces for the toys I thought I knew I would be getting.

And yet, every year, somehow they would sneak past me in the night to load the Christmas tree with the gifts I never discovered.

It was a Christmas battle that my parents always won. I suppose they could have simply hid them in the small entrance to the attic which I couldn’t reach — or any place I couldn’t reach I suppose. With my size in those days, the kitchen table was out of my reach.

So maybe the movies themselves aren’t the tradition, they simply are a part of it. Christmas itself is tradition, which none of us could really argue with. It’s just aspects that turn these memories to our own specific vision of Christmas.

I’m not entirely sure how many movies I’ll watch this year. As of writing this I still haven’t watched “A Christmas Carol,” and obviously I haven’t watched “A Christmas Story,” and honestly, I don’t know if I will get to them this year.

But they have a place in my memory so I imagine I’ll work around to it, when I’m not hunting for my Christmas presents that is. I think Buster has caught the scent.