Over the years, I've had many Christmas trees, many of which were real. It took a massive tree accident two years ago, an angry phone call to dear husband where I told him it was all his fault the tree fell over, threats of throwing the tree out the back door and the thought of opening my grandmother's Christmas gift (a pre-lit artificial tree to replace her circa 1984 plastic balsam) to get the tree we have today. Yes, it is fake. But it doesn't shed needles. And if it was to fall over, there wouldn't be a massive dirty puddle to clean up.
This year, darling daughter was an active participant in the tree decorating ritual. She tells everyone "I helped Daddy decorate the tree." Actually she told a fellow mom friend that same phrase over and over again last week. We get it. You helped decorate the tree. Oh toddlers, so cute, but so repetitive.
I miss not having a real tree. I was at the Real Canadian Superstore recently and I love walking past the real tree display, enjoying the evergreen pine smell. Sadly, there weren't many trees left. Either there must have been a real run on real trees this year or there are more people, like me, who don't want to deal with pine needles stabbing into feet or cleaning up messy puddles.
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