Since I was little, we would pile into my dad’s truck, head to my family tree lot and scour the hills lined with beautiful Christmas trees in hopes of finding THE tree that year. It always had to be Fat. I mean REALLY fat. We always wanted to beat the tree the year before as to how much of the dining room doorway it blocked off. Just my sisters, my dad and me for hours of laughing, crying, whining and then finally having it all paid off with Dad cutting down the winning tree.
Well, now that my sisters are spread around the world and we all have our own families, the tradition has had to evolve. So, this weekend, we headed to my uncles new tree lot that is a lot smaller than my Uncle Leslie’s. That is also a bonus because less choice means a quicker desicion. Rob and I found our tree, went back to grab our napping little boy and took him with to finalize the cutting with my Dad. He, of course had to help Grandad with every step and his eyes sparkled as you could see the excitement of Christmas building inside him. I think seeing Christmas through him is better than experiencing it myself when I was little. Its going to be a GREAT holiday season.
Katie Rose xo