Christmas has arrived because we've made our annual trek to Webster's Christmas Tree Farm in Darien. The weather FINALLY cooled off and made it feel more wintry which is a good thing because Black Friday shopping in a tank top yesterday just didn't feel so wintry.
This little tree farm was marriage counseling in action for us the first year we went. I REFUSED, I mean ADAMANTLY REFUSED, to back down on getting a Frasier Fir. That's all I had known for 20 some odd years. The smell, the touch, the beauty. Frasier Firs = Christmas. (Yes, I know Jesus is Christmas but work with me here...)
The Husb so quietly, so meekly suggests we get something a little "softer" since we did have a crawling baby in the house. A nice cyprus perhaps? Yeah yeah pulling the baby card.
So we get a Frasier Fir because the Husb is a giver (thankfully ONE of us is!). We take it home. It turns all prickly, scratches up our sweet little precious 9 month old baby girl, gets stuck into every crevice of our burber carpet and thus ends its reign as THE TREE WE MUST HAVE. THE TREE THAT IF I DON'T GET IT I WILL CRY LIKE A BABY AND NOT BUY YOU ANY PRESENTS. (I'm sure those "exact" words were never said...)
So the Christmas Tree Farm is more than just an outing. It's a notch in our marriage belt.
And so are these little hoodlums we brought with us...
C'mon Sista, I'll show you the way...
The handsome boys that led the way. Wild Man was expecting ski slopes apparently.
This one here, with her plate of croup and a side dish of miserable, didn't want anything to do with this lame-o activity of hunting down the perfect Christmas tree. She informed us loudly and was removed from said activity and placed in the car so as not to disturb the neighbors who lived approximately 64 miles away.
But lo, the perfect tree HAD BEEN FOUND and MOMMY YOU MUST COME SEE IT NOW!!!
As usual, my flopping attempt at getting all 4 in a picture. They're just a walking Kodak moment.