But, I insist on it.
It's the perfect Christmas tradition. Everyone gets bundled up. We sing carols on the way to our tree hunting grounds. We merrily pick out the perfect tree. We sip hot cocoa afterwards. Perfection. Just the way we did it when I was a kid.
At least that's the way I remembered it.
But, this year, I had flashbacks to some not so perfect aspects of that perfect Christmas tradition. The trigger of these flashbacks? My crying toddler who really wanted to be napping. My husband's hurried-I'm-doing-this-for-you-attitude and my nearly seven year old's I'm-going-to-be-as-defiant-and-contrary-as-possible-mantra.
I almost left the scene.
But, in a moment of desperation I turned around and said (cried? yelled?), "this is one of my favorite things about Christmas, don't ruin it".
And, on we went. Happy memories being created, damn it!
I climbed under the tree to take the first whack at cutting it. I almost stayed there forever. The snow on my back, the fresh pine smell, it was heaven.
Eager for everyone to have this experience...and eager for a little sawing re-enforcement, everyone took a turn.
Our tree stands now in our antique bay window ready for adornment.
I can't wait to see what this next Christmas tradition adventure brings...