Torture – in the key of Christmas tree

We finally got our tree and put it up last weekend.  Remember – the one we picked out at the tree lot?

I lugged it into the house, put it in the stand, and tied it up.

(Yes, I tied it up.  Two years in a row we came home to a fully decorated tree on the floor – ornaments broken, lights half off the tree, the whole mess.  One of those years it happened twice.  Yup.  Twice.  We couldn’t even blame it on the dogs or kids because the stupid thing just fell over.  So now we tie (because I’m a lot of things but I’m not stupid).)

The next morning, while Emery napped, Oliver and I decorated.  He couldn’t really figure out opening up the strings to get them on the branch but he was very good at telling me where to put them.  Spaced out and everything.  Anal, just like his mother.

Oliver mentions the pretty lights now and then but can run by the tree a hundred times a day and hardly glance at it.  Emery, however, has a bit of an obsession.

We get a lot of this…

“No, Emery… don’t touch!”.

And then this…

“Emery – don’t touch please!”.

“Mommy… are you kidding me?  They’re bright and shiny and fit right into my  hand…

… and look, they’re at my height!  They’re – RIGHT – THERE!”.

And then he throws me one of these and I am ready to let him pull the whole thing down because he’s just so darned cute.  Ha!

Actually, he is pretty easily distracted by something else so it really isn’t that big a deal.

It really is a special kind of torture to have the shininess dangling right in front of his face and then tsk at him for being curious about it all.  But if we took the ornaments off the bottom half of the tree or let him run away with them, what would we be teaching him?  Nothing.  And so we tsk and shoo and distract (and will continue to for at least a few more days) and he will come out of it with a little more understanding of right and wrong, listening to mommy and daddy, and self control.

Yay for Christmas trees and hidden life lessons!

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