The getting of the tree
Happily free of awkward questions is the annual ritual of getting a Christmas tree. As we pulled into the lot, the kids don’t recognize it as our usual tree-picking spot, yet as we were paying for the tree on our way out, they were quick to remind the owner that he gave them chocolate treats last year. Oh, so you do remember! I was surprised how quickly we chose a tree this year. Usually we pour over every single one, debating the merits of each – height versus fullness, is that more blue than green – and then promptly forget the trees we first saw, and so start all over again. But this year we went, we saw, we bought (and got chocolates) in a matter of minutes.
Driving home, my husband did manage to raise one awkward question: why don’t we cut our own Christmas tree next year? Not realizing there would be no chocolate involved, the kids got very excited by the suggestion and asked me if I didn’t think that was a cool idea. Oh I was cool to the idea. My husband’s problem is that as a child he didn’t wade through knee-deep snow every year in the backwoods of Kitimat looking for the perfect tree, so he can blithely toss out these kinds of suggestions. We’ll see, I told the kids. We’ll see.
