Chris bought a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
This is not his usual mode of operation. He usually gets a tree that's about 6 inches taller than will fit in the house. We still have the marks on our ceiling from one of them. Frankly, I'm not sure what came over him.
Yes, we're trying to reduce waste, but really, once you've chopped down a tree does it really matter how big it is? It will end up in the burn pile, so it can't be the landfill he's concerned about. One might think he was out for a bargain but alas that is also not his m.o. He made up for the size by getting some heirloom breed grown only in Sweden on leap years. Or something.
While I was still standing in the doorway, with "oh, you got a tree!" halfway out of my mouth, he asked if I wanted him to take it back and get a bigger one.
Now let's go back to my childhood, shall we? Way back, when someone's mother* sent someone's father back to the Christmas tree lot with a tree that was not perfectly symmetrical or had too-pointy needles or some such innate failure. It was not done very graciously. So deep in my child psyche I developed the Must Be Nice to Trees and Fathers quirk. Because there are the way things should be and there are the way people should be and people trump things just as sure as rocks smash scissors.
So we have a very sweet little tree which only fits half of our ornaments which means I don't have to put as much away in March.
This is clearly the year when my inner Martha Stewart gives way to my inner Swell Mom. Not only did I hug my husband and tell him the little cluster of branches was lovely, I let Lucy put the decorations on. Did you hear that? I let my 5 year old decorate the tree. My 5 year old with the design sense of a baked potato.
I am usually a trifle micro-managey about these things, so this is a big step for me. Okay yes I did some fine tuning. And I put the really super extra fragile ones on myself. It was easy finding spaces for them, what with her clustered groupings on about 6 of the branches.
Also crossed off the holiday checklist: The Nutcracker. Sarah and I took the girls to Spindle City Ballet's production in New Bedford over the weekend. Sarah and I are both ballet snobs and neither of us had anything snotty to say at the intermission. I'd call it a win.
So let's see, the tree's up, the Nutcracker's been seen, the lists are made. So all I have to do is my shopping and shipping. And card writing. Oh, and we're having a party. For which I've done nothing.
Right on schedule.
*not mine, of course