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Monty and the Christmas tree Our son Monty’s fifth Christmas was a magical time for him. Eyes bright with excitement, he participated in each holiday activity with energy and enthusiasm. But the thing that fascinated him the most was decorating the Christmas tree. A few days before Christmas that year I was busy in the kitchen when I heard a loud crash. Running to the living room, to my horror, I saw our beautiful tree on the floor, ornaments broken, lights jumbled and water everywhere. I also saw one very chagrined little boy. After cleaning up the mess, I patiently explained to Monty that he could look at the tree as much as he wanted, but he was not to touch it anymore. Back I went to my baking, sure that the problem had been solved. Much too soon I heard another crash. Returning to the living room, I saw the same scene as before: little boy, big mess. Once again, I fixed the tree, which was beginning to look a bit ragged, and cleaned up the mess. With narrowed eyes and a steely voice, I informed Monty in no uncertain terms that he was to leave the tree completely alone and find something else to play with. All was calm, and peace was on earth—or at least in our household—and my heart was filled with the joy of the season. I had almost finished my baking when once again I heard that now familiar crash. When I got to the living room this time, there was the tree on the floor, but no boy. Finally I noticed two little feet sticking out from under a branch. Fuming, I jerked the tree up and glared down at my son, who looked up at me, smiled, and said, “I didn’t hurt myself.” Once again I cleaned up the debris and set our tree upright. It looked awful, but stayed in place from then on, and we had a joyful, happy and memorable Christmas. Peggy Fuller, Scaly Mountain | Haywood EMC |
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