THIS WEEKEND, I broke with tradition. The boys have been mithering for weeks and weeks to get the Christmas tree but as usual this weekend, time was short.
"Please mum .... PLEASE mum ..... PLEEEEEEEEASE can we get the tree today?" Aw, to see their little doe-eyes looking up at me all forlorn with all four arms wrapped tightly around my waist. How could I resist? It was only when husband suggested he take them for the tree that shockwaves ran right through me.
However could I not attend the annual nit-picking event that is the selection of the festive focal point?? I felt dejected at the thought that they could go off, without giving me a second thought. However would they manage without my input? I mean, the tree has to be just the right height, just the right bushyness and just the right colour green. Will they get it right??
I gave in and watched them set off down the driveway like the Three Wise Men. Off in search of their very own king .... the king of Nordmann Firs. I went off shopping and took my time ... Two hours later, shopping complete, I glanced at the time and imagined at what stage they would be at back home. I reckoned it would be sand in the bucket time so stopped off for a lengthy coffee at mum and dads.
Coffee drunk and fridge raided, I headed home and there he was ... a beauty of a festive focal point. He stood all majestic and tall, with just the right amount of bushyness and a perfect shade of green. It's a shame all the decorations had been hung in just one area and that most of the chocolates had been ate - but then, that's half the fun of it!
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