We bought a Christmas tree this evening and we have just finished decorating it. It’s the first one we’ve had as a family. It’s a great tree. It’s not too tall and it’s nice and chubby with just the right shape. A fir tree that is native to this area it came from a local hillside and will be transplanted into our garden on the 6th of January. (Ok, that may be a little optimistic….let’s just say sometime in January.)
The idea was to pile some prettily wrapped presents underneath the tree and take a photo of our three year old son standing in front of it holding up his Christmas stocking and thus produce a perfect festive card for friends and family. The plan had to be quickly shelved however when we realised the impossibility of having a three year old within a foot of a colourfully wrapped parcel and him not ripping the paper off.
We managed to whisk the presents away just in time and conceal them somewhere up high but unfortunately this solution to our problem brought another problem with it. Ah yes, that most Christmassy of things, a toddler tantrum. So now instead of a soft-focus, heart-melting picture of our little Christmas angel all we finish the evening with is video footage of a demon toddler yelling through his sobs ‘It is kissmas. It IS kissmas. IT IS KISSMAS. LET ME OPEN THE PRESENTS.’
I blame the parents. Idiots.