O, Christmas Tree

Over Thanksgiving weekend, we went to the South Street Seaport for their tree lighting. It’s a big tree, with a chorus and Santa, but lacks all the crowds of Bryant Park or Rockefeller Center. Charlie was super-excited (and so was I). We counted down and stayed for all of the music, even “New York, New York.”

It was lovely and magical and what you imagine when you imagine the beauty of this crazy city.

Then, later in the weekend, we set up our own dumpling of a Christmas tree. We strung up lights and trimming and Charlie played with everything that came out of the Christmas bin. (Sound familiar, Kylie?)

We had our own mini-countdown before turning on the lights and singing “O, Christmas Tree.”

Of course, every evening, when we go to bed, we have to turn off the lights. You know, to prevent fire. So every morning since we put up the tree, Charlie wakes up, points at the branches and says, “Mama, Christmas tree. 1…2…3…4…”

So we do another countdown, and sing another round of “O, Christmas Tree.”

Finally, someone in my household loves Christmas as much as I do.

[Cue evil elf laughter.]


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