Merry Christmas, everyone!
Just came across a picture my sister took from our tree hunting escapade a couple weeks ago. This photo sums it all up so well. You guys. This was the WORST tree hunting experience I’ve EVER had. It was also our first. So, that was our first mistake. Going tree hunting for the first time as a family of SEVEN. Seven people plus an aunt who all have to agree on the perfect tree. We thought we would go out on a merry adventure, find our little tree, cut it down, cart it home, and all decorate it together like a happy little family, singing Christmas carols all the while. Ha. Hahaha. It went something more like this…
Joshua: “Who needs heavy coats to go tree hunting? It’s only 45° on the PRAIRIE!”
We get to the tree farm and, “Whoa, 45° feels a lot colder here…”
To say that we were a little underdressed would be an interesting way of expressing things. Thankfully we had a couple extra blankets in the car to wrap Baby in. There was no snow, but there was a lot of mud. Oh, so much mud. Monkey4 was so attracted to the mud that he kept face planting into it every couple of steps. This shocked and appalled the little guy. My phone was very attracted to it, too. It flew out of my hand dove into a brown puddle as I tried to snap a quaint picture of the boys walking toward the trees.We had brought Little Miss’ stroller along instead of the wheelchair. Has anyone tried to push a 33lb child uphill in six inches of mud? How’d that go for ya? Ten steps in and the wheels were so caked with mud that all you could see was blobs of brown.
Anyway, we walked and walked all over that farm looking for the perfect tree. And we finally found a pretty good one. But wait… There on the horizon stood the most beautifulest Christmas tree we had seen all day. It was only a little farther down the hill. We walked (swam?) through the mud to inspect the gorgeous tree. Yes, we all agreed, it was perfect. We took a family picture beside it, as you can see below. We were a happy tree hunting family.
Papa pulled out the saw to start cutting that beauty down and… We hear him groan from under the branches. “What?!” We all shout in concern.
“It’s two trees.”
“It’s two trees grown up right beside each other. If we cut one of them down it will look like we have half a tree.”
Of course. Of COURSE it had to be two trees…
But there was still the first tree we’d picked out. We would just go back to our original choice. Sure, it wasn’t quite as pretty as the two-tree-wonder. But it was still a nice tree. As we reached the top of the hill headed back to that first tree we heard a terrible sound. It was the sound of a little boy standing in front of our tree saying, “Yes, Dad, this is the one!” And then the sound of another family’s saw cutting our Christmas tree down. We watched them drag our tree away, along with five other near-perfect trees. Sigh.
The hunt began again. By this time there were tears. Baby was hungry. Two little boys had to go potty. I’m fairly certain Little Miss has never been so cold in her life. She seemed terrified that her hands might never get warm. I tried carrying her to comfort her. We fell in a hole. We put her back in her stroller. She and the stroller tipped over. It was a deesaster.
We decided to put Little Miss, the aunt, and the baby (two of whom were quite grumpy by this point) in the car while the rest of us settled on a tree. And you know what? We ended up stumbling on the most perfect Christmas tree I’ve ever had. More beautifuler even than that two-tree deceiver. We hacked it down, dragged it through the mud, strapped it to the roof, and wearily traipsed home. That blue spruce now graces our living room with enchanting majesty. Just don’t look at the back of the tree. The mud monster wouldn’t completely let go.