Oliver woke Catherine up at 5:00 a.m. this morning, wondering when we were going to get the Christmas tree. He wouldn’t go back to bed. He could have tried with me, but he knew I would have ignored him; Catherine is the better, or at least the more waking-hours-flexible parent.
I expect he will be awake just as early next Saturday morning. I believe I’ve been nominated, in absentia, to get up with him.
Our house is now equipped with a freshly-cut tree.
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I thought about getting a
I thought about getting a tree this year, but I quickly realized that it would probably still be standing naked in my living room over a pile of dry pine needles (read: tinder) come February, waiting for spark.
Maybe next year.
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