Suddenly, from out of nowhere, the earth began to shake. Thump, thump, whack, splat, crash….cry? Yes, cry. In one fell swoop and in the blink of an eye my dear Christmas tree was mauled this year.
Andrew, the two year old who runs my house, slyly army-crawled under the tree, grabbed what must have been an armful of bulbs (promptly smashing each and everyone of them into tiny glass shards by beating them against a nearby window) while also managing to tangle himself up in the lights as he attempted with great stealth to reach the much-talked-about and very mysterious forbidden plug-in.
In the five seconds it took for the scene to unfold I managed to stand up and lunge towards the tree. Alas, my attempts were in vain. Down came the tree – lights, bulbs, angel, boy and all – crashing to the ground. As Andrew whimpered from under my now pathetic tree, I laughed in spite of myself at the joys of Christmas. This small tale has now become part of the folklore of our family…beautiful. Merry Christmas.
Contributed by Sarah.
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