Tannenbaum

I always had a real Christmas tree growing up. My husband did too, until the year of the tree with the hatching spider eggs (or something like that), after which they went artificial.

When our first Christmas as a married couple rolled around, I assumed we'd go pick out a real tree. My no-nonsense husband had other plans. As I recall, he talked me into buying a fake tree with a hug and some line about how "We'll always have our first tree." I fell for it, and we brought home and decorated our plastic tree. I lit a pine-scented candle to give the illusion of the real thing, and thought about how romantic and sentimental my husband was being, what with wanting to keep our first tree and all.

(Well played, honey.)

So after seven years with our fake tree, it was no small thing when my dear practical husband suggested we get a real tree this year. It seems the sentimentality of dragging the kids somewhere to pick out a tree finally got to him. (Letting them help unfold branches just isn't the same.)

Abby and Caleb had a blast running through all the trees and spinning the ones that were suspended from the ceiling. While the parents debated which tree to bring home (eventually settling on the fact that they all look the same once you put lights on them), the kids busied themselves with collecting discarded pine needles and branches to build a tree of their own. They were enthralled by the process of strapping the tree atop the van, and were only a little worried about how windy it was going to be up there. They kept their eyes glued to the sunroof for most of the ride home. It was a momentous occasion, to say the least.

Farewell, pine-scented candle!