Well the holidays are in full swing here in the Hill house. We decided last year to retire the prelit tree and venture into the world of "real" Christmas trees. My dad, who considers himself to be a connoisseur of real trees volunteered to take Connor to pick one out for our house. Fine by me! I warned my dad that the expectations were extremely high and Connor was determined to pick out "the most perfect and beautiful tree God ever made." No pressure or anything. My dad had the unenviable task of keeping him reigned in so we didn't end up with a tree more fitting for the center of a skating rink!
My dad updated me several times during the Christmas tree journey. First he let me know that Connor had ran through the tree lot hugging every tree he could get his arms around. He was just so overcome with joy he had to hug it out with as many trees as possible. That sounded about right. Then he proceeded to announce to every person he came across that those trees smelled just like Christmas and isn't that wonderful? Hmm, we never got that kind of response from our 7 foot prelit Sam's Club special.
They finally made it home with a huge and beautiful Noble Fir, which sounds really majestic and a three year old with a face full of sap, which was not so majestic. I have to admit that getting a real Christmas tree has required me to step out of my comfort zone, they are messy, needy and imperfect. And yes Virginia, I do realize the irony in the fact that I sent my son to school today in ecofriendly, vegan shoes and yet also contributed to the murder of a living tree which further worsens deforestation on our planet. But here is the bottom line: I don't really care. That stupid tree really does smell just like Christmas and I am once again learning about joy through my son's example. That makes it worth it.
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