Despite the fact that we are going to Memphis for Christmas, I bought a tree. The kids are soooo excited. It is one of those holiday chores that feels worth the work. The joyous hooting brought on by lights and ornaments is worth wrestling a 6 foot tall spruce into the front seat of a Honda Element any day of the week. Lucy did a surprisingly good job of decorating the tree all the way up to the three and a half foot mark. Really, a lovely job, if you keep your gaze low. The Un-decorator, though? That guy is a real bummer.
The Un-decorator is about two and a half feet tall and has two and a half years under his belt. He is ruthless and driven in his mission of removing and scattering all of the ornaments within a tippy toed reach. I have asked nicely. I have threatened. I have yelled. I have time-outed. I am not winning. At 6:15 am I wandered into the living room in the remnants of a Nyquil haze (I have a cold, I swear! Now stop with the Lil' Wayne comments.) to the crinkle crinkle sound of candy cane being unwrapped. I slipper-ed my way around the side of the tree to apprehend the suspect in the act of eating a candy cane as it still hung from the tree. Like a little baby goat suckling on it's mother; Tennessee's little chin tilted up toward the star at the top of the tree as he enjoyed his minty morning contraband. I am stubborn and bossy, but I have to admit that this is a battle I am not going to win. I am formally laying down my tinsel laden sword.
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