Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Crooked Timber

The Boy, who is now eight, is hanging decorations on the Christmas tree in the quiet moments before the school bus comes. He finds some shards at the bottom of a box. "Hey," he says. "Are these from the time I bit into an ornament?"

I laugh. "No, no," I say. "All those pieces are long gone. Boy, am I glad we don't have to worry about anything like that anymore."

He giggles and goes back to putting bells on the branches.

Five minutes later, the entire Christmas tree overbalances, cast-iron stand and all, and topples to the floor at his feet, sending needles, water, and shattered glass spraying all across the living room.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

dear jack, you may have noticed ( or maybe not), that for years we tied the christmas tree to the drapery rod in the living room. We had the same accident except that it was Christmas eve and your Dad and I were trying to sneak out to the neighbors for a drink and when we closed the back door---KABOOM!

love, mom