I was broken-hearted that we didn't have the time, money, or energy to decorate. So while this will be our second Christmas in this house, it really feels like our first.
Westley chose the tree, and when Rob brought out the boxes of ornaments (both of them), Westley inspected each decoration carefully. I was sure he'd want to decorate the tree, but he was more interested in playing with the shiny, breakable things. It made me more than a little anxious.
There was an understanding when I was growing up that each year, one ornament would get broken. It always happened by accident, and in later years, was often a cat-related incident. I was sure the same rule would apply in my own household, and terrified that the mandatory broken ornament would wind up embedded in Westley's fingers. It didn't. (It wasn't even his fault.)
It wasn't the peaceful, idyllic tree-trimming scene I remember from my childhood. But what do I know? I was a child at the time and loving every minute of the Christmas festivities. It's possible that my parents were stressed out of their minds with two tiny children running around, handling glass decorations (some of them antique) and stabby ornament hooks.
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