Just Drew and I were home that night, two nights before Christmas, when our Christmas tree fell to its doom. The little hooligan was at it again playing with the ornaments, and again it fell over, scattering miniscule styrofoam snowballs all over my carpet.
The first time it was kind of funny. Drew had a mouth full of snowballs and was very remorseful. The second time her mouth was clean as a whistle and she acted like the tree falling down was old news ("What's the big deal mom?") I guess you learn after the first time a plastic tree falls down on you to move out of the way. If she only had a few snowballs on her body I might have felt better about the whole thing.
Apparently artificial trees are only manufactured to fall down once. After the second fall, our tree was never to stand again. The plastic base was snapped in two places and no amount of duck tape was holding the thing together.
This Christmas our tree looked beaten to a pulp and leaned against the wall, breathing its last breaths. We might have let that break our Christmas spirit, but we didn't...
Drew was still an angel in the family Christmas Eve nativity play. Although the halo she is wearing is a fake! I promise.
She still got showered with the best gifts (like furry princess boots) that she plays with EVERY day.
We still got to spend time with tons of family.
Drew still got the new pajamas I made for her.
And Christmas morning was still a joy. Although I can't say the same for our sad tree in the background.
And the final tally this year comes in:
Christmas tree- 0