1. It HAD to be much taller then Dad (he's 6"2)
2. It HAD to be massive- fat and full
3. It HAD to be real- plastic didn't smell the same.
This went on for years. A family trip to the nursery to find the perfect tree and sip apple cider. At the end of the Christmas season Dad would again threaten the unspeakable, "Next year we are getting a fake tree!" He was always less then thrilled about the countless needles in the car, up the stairs, and on the living-room floor. It seems the vacuum always missed a few... dozen needles.
Mom got smart and we began to leave Dad out of the collecting/delivery of the tree. This way the mess was all taken care of and we survived another year without a fake tree. Good one Mom!
This plan worked very well until....
|The tree that ended it all.|
Somehow, still unknown to the Westbrook family, water got in between the hardwood and the plexiglass. It went unseen until we took down the tree and removed the plexiglass... leaving warped hardwood panels beneath. CRAP! Without a word spoken the Westbrook women knew what this would mean.
The following December Dad came home with a plastic tree. To not break with every traditional rule, he did buy one MASSIVE, full and tall.
Last year my parents gave Matt and I the fake, fat and tall Christmas tree for our very own Christmas. We had to change around our whole apartment in order to fit it in Provo.
There was no exception this year as we shoved it into the corner so we could still have our couch. Four different furniture arrangements later we found one that kinda worked.
We found out something new about the tree this year.
Fake or not it's quite possibly the coolest thing to stare at for hours!
And the tradition continues, my son LOVES Christmas already.