CHRISTMAS traditions throughout the world contribute to the way Americans celebrate the holiday.

From Germany, lighted candles evolved into our twinkling lights on decorated trees. The poinsettia plant seated at the fireplace hearth hails from Mexico, and the original Saint Nicholas used the stockings of needy children for his gift giving.

Many of our rituals have passed from generation to generation, bringing with them fond memories of celebrations past.

Like other American families, one of our Christmas Eve traditions was born from sheer necessity: toy assembly. Anyone that has surreptitiously put together an aquatic rescue station in the dark of night knows it is one of the small joys of Christmas - perhaps the smallest.

At our house, we assemble with a nip of holiday cheer. Once our sweet and overexcited children have collapsed into slumber, my husband and I simultaneously hit the tool box and liquor cabinet.

Before assembly, a fundamental inventory makes for a good start. Instructions, screwdriver, nuts, bolts, pliers, gin, tonic, bourbon, orange juice and let's not forget the ice-chilled glasses. As if we were working in an orderly and pristine surgical unit, we align our instruments for precision and efficiency. A toast to Santa's elves and our work begins.

We are on a mission. Determined to beat our assembly time from the previous year, we work diligently and together. This is the type of project that can make or break a marriage, a test of temerity.

The importance of task delegation, coordinated with suitable skills, should not be underestimated. Reading the directions is an important task, so I am told. Although a high score in reading comprehension helps, the ability to translate symbols or hieroglyphics is crucial. For me, deciphering a diagram is comparable to reading a road atlas. (Flashback: New Jersey Turnpike, summer 2002. Me: I'm telling you the blue line didn't have a little triangle, and that's why we're here.)

Finally, the labeled parts A, B, and C are fitted with D, E, and F and we are on our way to blissful assembly. Of course, part G-2, corrugated to fit parallel part H-2, doesn't. And that cues my beloved to use his brute strength in making all parts, parallel or otherwise, connect.

When the assembly is completed and functional, we call it a morning and look forward to the four hours of sleep ahead of us. Children, who do not yet tell time, possess a special inner alarm clock set for 5:30 a.m. Christmas day.

Bleary eyed, we stagger downstairs to see if Santa did, indeed, visit us. Miraculously, his stealthy arrival and departure went unnoticed, leaving presents, cookie crumbs and a highball glass on the mantle.

As I watch and enjoy the wonder and laughter of our little ones' Christmas morning, I think about children in faraway lands. Their family traditions, cultures and religious rituals are as vital as ours are in America.

Whether we practice Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, or if we prefer to abstain from religious belief, our children, of all lands, deserve an assembly of peace, hope and understanding.

Shaun Borsh is a freelance writer who lives in Columbia.