Just as predicted yesterday, we braved the mud and massive puddles to pick out our tree. It doesn't take as long as it used to. Now the three teenagers glance around, mumble "this one's fine" and ask if they can wait in the warm car.
Then the inevitable complaining from Jungle Boy about carrying it up the stairs into the front door. The yearly ritual of husband asking "is it straight? how about now?" over and over while we pretend he has to keep moving it around in the base.
Then the family scatters while Wasabi Girl and I fuss with the lights and ornaments.
Then the biggest challenge of all. The Christmas train.
Who invented this tradition? We both love and hate our Christmas train. We're on at least our third model now. This one was a gift to Wasabi Girl a few years ago. She had been in tears when the previous incarnation broke beyond repair. Since this is her train, it falls on her to set it up. And by setting up, I mean reconnecting the tracks a hundred times when one part or another comes apart, finding the right batteries for the engine and remote, and getting the cars to stay on the tracks.
Once she was done, she played with that train for the rest of the evening. Forward, reverse, forward again. She has more fun with it than any of the rest of us. I'm scared to touch it for fear I'll just mess it up.
With the living room complete, she sat down to practice In this shot you can see Scrooge sitting on a pile of Dickens and other Christmas books, and I just noticed the sky out the windows is sort of an awesome color. My two amaryllis are in full bloom.
I love Christmas.