Sunday, January 10, 2016


I have written before about how Jack picks one of the littlest trees on the lot every Christmas. He has a good heart, that boy.

I can't remember why, but we didn't do that this past June. The old tree was left tucked away in the back corner of the yard.

Fast forward to the night before the night before Christmas. I was working late, making up for time I missed while I was out of town for five days. Just as I was heading home, I got a text from Jack, "Can you pick me up at Chloe's?" He had been hanging out all evening with his friends decorating Christmas cookies.

We pulled into the garage and got out of the car. Jack breathed in, "Something smells funny." We shrugged and headed into the house. 

"Wait!" Jack said, "I think I know what that smell is! Come see if I'm right!"

Back in the garage, Jack said, "He did it! He was talking about doing it and he actually did it!"

There, hanging from the ceiling, was last year's Christmas tree. While we were out, Roger had spray painted it green.

"We haven't gotten around to getting a tree yet and it's sort of late now," he said. "So I figured I'd give this a try."

We have long deferred to Jack on matters of the tree (it is his childhood after all). He thought it was hilarious. I did, too. So the next day Roger brought it into the house and decorated it, adding one new ornament he picked up at the hardware store.

It turned out to be a fine tree for the holiday, but I'm not quite sure what will happen if we put it in our Celestial Cauldron and burn it come Summer Solstice. 

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