Oh, Christmas tree, how beautiful you are to me! Thank you for coming back into my home, sweet tree, especially this year--you're risking your precious life by doing so. There's a little hooligan underfoot, and he could bring about some serious damage to you (and to himself). You've survived here for nearly three weeks, but I still don't take any day of your stay for granted. My little cannonball of a boy could hurl himself into you, and your exquisite attire, in less than a second.
You remain upright and regal, sporting an elegant new skirt and topper--you've been due for an upgrade for years. Your classy white lights spruce up the shabby chic collection of mostly hand-me-down ornaments that adorn your boughs. But you boast a couple of new ornaments, too--precious, personal ones that mark each of the cannonball's Christmases. Thank you for cherishing them as I do, and for displaying them so proudly and carefully (and out of reach of grabby little hands).
Despite your twinkling lights, tempting ornaments, and intoxicating smell, the little hooligan has paid you hardly any attention. Don't take this personally. You see, he's busy . . . all the time--he is very, very, very busy. He has places to go, things to do, and people to see. He didn't even have time to pose in front of you for a picture. This was the only photo, after multiple attempts, that I could capture with you and him in the same frame . . .
until I planted his little butt on the floor in front of you and he yelled and then pouted about it. Don't take his tears personally, either. He can be a real grouch.
You do hinder my little guy's access to the front windows, where he likes to watch for Babas (beloved things... babies, dogs, construction equipment and workers, etc.). You are so kind, though. As he charges past you, pushing in frustration at your branches and nearly slipping on your skirt, you show him nothing but love. Your soft, green needles tickle and caress his bobbing blond head. Your branches gently make way for him, no matter how rough he is with you. You make a picturesque backdrop behind my little boy peering out the window to the delight of passersby. You understand, wise old tree, the preciousness of a moment, and that these moments are fleeting. And so you put up with the big and small annoyances, the danger, neglect, and abuse because it's all worth it for the pitter patter of little feet and the knowledge that you've served our family well for one more year.
Thank you, beloved tree, for your courage and adventurous spirit this year. I'll try by best to keep you safe, upright, and all in one piece for a couple more weeks!