Fall of The Beast

Looking back, it was inevitable. But, we like to think that it would not have happened this way. We worked hard securing everything in its place. We didn't want a repeat of last year. Seeing our efforts fail twice before (last year) which resorted to rigging it with fishing line was still in our memory. Not this year, we thought (& hoped). But it happened. Our Christmas tree fell.

Our tree, which I have been calling The Beast, our miracle tree, fell over my love seat, crushing beautiful glass ornaments that had been carefully placed high out of the reach of one almost 3 year old. It was a mess. Shards of glass, hooks, ornaments, and needles EVERYWHERE. And a lovely murkey puddle on the carpet.

My son, who had been at the tree ringing a bell ornament that was still attached, and singing "jingle bells" for the 137th time, must have pulled a little hard on the tree. Thankfully, it did not fall in his direction. (You can stop gasping now, mom). He stood there with eyes as big as saucers and his mouth gaping open. And, yes, I was sitting very close by keeping an eye on him. After making sure none of his limbs were entangled with the Beast's limbs, he immediately sat himself in timeout without saying a word - I didn't even have to ask. That's a well-trained child. Or, maybe he just saw the look in my eye that said "I'm glad you are ok so that now I can kill you".

I managed to lift the tree (with much strain and sumo-like grunting...it is, after all a BEAST of a tree) and prop it in the corner of the room until Daddy comes home. There's a pile of 40+ ornaments on my table waiting to be carefully replaced. Each shard of glass was carefully cleaned and vacuumed over at least 28 times.

I have a hunch the fishing line will be coming out tonight. McGyver doesn't have anything on my man.

after - propped and pitiful

before