Toby declared that we did not need a Christmas tree this year. I didn’t really agree, but when we were up to our chins in boxes while moving his office stuff into my old office, I didn’t really think it was a good time to argue. Plus, I’m feeling mighty guilty that I have the most beautiful spacious baby’s room ever and he has a little hole of an office that he can’t even turn around in. Now is not the best time to be negotiating more fussing with the house with Toby. I thought I might be super ambitious and go buy a tree by myself… but then the belly got in the way and that seemed totally out of the question. Me lug a tree up the stairs? Even if it was a Charlie Brown tree, I probably couldn’t do it.
So today I brought in my little hack-job bonsai tree, that I’ve been nursing along pathetically for about five years now, (I’m so embarrassed for my father-in-law to see this. He’s given me three lessons in proper bonsai trimming and I still don’t get it.) and I decorated it with lights and my smallest ornaments. I know it’s sad. I know the lights are bigger than the tree… but it makes me happy.
I feel like it’s Christmas now.