I remember as a kid, growing up in Colorado, going with my mom out into the snow covered woods searching, and searching until we found the perfect christmas tree which we would then cut down and haul back home to decorate (at least I think it when something like this.) When you live in the city "cutting" down the family christmas tree takes on a whole new meaning.
Yesterday we continued with our new family tradition which consisted of loading up dad and the little man into the Prius and driving a few miles over to Chinatown, double parking, getting yelled at by a hotel doorman for double parking, yelling back at said doorman, running around the 12 x12 "farm," finding the perfect tree (aka any one that said it was 7 feet tall,) greasing the guy 10 bucks to wrap and load it into the car, driving back home with the little man covered in the packaged tree, and then fighting with dad for hours because the tree is not 7 feet but rather 9 feet and doesn't fit in the stand. Ahhhhh holiday memories.
Ok, ok it wasn't all that bad, and in the end we do have a beautiful tree, but I can assure you this is not what Norman Rockwell had in mind.
Here we are at the "farm."
It was love at first sight for the little man and this year's tree.
After hours of sawing we finally finagled it into the stand and the little man and I were able to decorate. The little man first sorted all of the ornaments.
We continued this process for about two hours.
Until finally we were ready for the Santa tree topper. The Husband (who was still very annoyed about the size of the tree) took this very flattering photo of me. Thanks for that one babe.
Our finished result was a slightly too large tree that was decorated with lots and lots of love.