Last night we endured our little family tradition of putting up the Christmas tree. Each year I have to bribe boy a bit to help me pull the sucker out of the attic. For him it's like getting a shot. You dread it even though you have to do it, it may hurt a little, but in the end it's all worth it. Now don't get me wrong he loves Christmas like the rest of us, he just did not realize that a 9ft. pre-lite Christmas tree was in the marriage vows.
So we head up to the attic and for 30 minutes yank and pull that sucker out into tree pieces. Drag it down the stairs and then begin to assemble. He bickers for 45 minutes about why I had to buy pre-lite because by the time you find all the plugs and outlets you could have had 20 trees wrapped with lights and Costco is such a rip for selling a lousy tree. We finally get A connected to B and B connected to C. Flip the switch and of course the very top layer does not light up. As he searches in the tree for the problem I hear a shriek and turn to see boy lying on the floor yelling in pain.
Found the problem.
Looks like a light was broken and boy got an electric shock because he forgot to turn it all off. And then we have a pug that is in distress at this new object he only slightly remembers from last year until he smells it and finds the faint scent of his urine from years past and is comforted to know it is his Christmas tree.
And so together we held bandaged hands, sipped hot chocolate, sang "Oh Christmas Tree" and sniffed each branch on the tree. It's officially Christmas time.