For the ten Christmases I have been a wife, I have had a simple, table-top Christmas tree. In the beginning, it was all we could afford (this may still be true; I haven’t checked prices lately). But once we had a toddler, we realized how handy it was to have the tree up and out of the reach of curious hands.
This worked well for E, who always respected the tree.
This worked well for A., who I trained not to touch the tree in a single day.
This worked extra well for Q., who holds the record for being our tiniest child. She couldn’t reach the tree until this year, at age three, when she knows better.
However, we have this other child.
After lunch today, O. nonchalantly grabbed the extension cord (to which was attached our beloved tree) and walked off with it.
The table top tree? Well, it didn’t fall completely to the floor, but that is because it got stuck between the table and the wall, where the base made a bit of a gash in the wall.
Anybody remember that song from Sesame Street? One of these things is not like the others…
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