Tuesday, December 11, 2012

How the Sargents Do the Tree

First, we drive to Costco to buy the tree.  No day in the mountains, no home-grown tree farm, working hard to pick just the right one and chopping it down with our own axe.  We get our tree from a warehouse in the city. From the back of a truck. And in our circle of friends, that's just very un-Christmas-like. 
But, it's what we do.  At least we get a Noble.  And it's from our home state even.  (Go Ducks!)

Then when we get home, we recruit a teenaged boy or two, somebody who wants a nice hot dinner and clean clothes.  And we show them to the van, and let them unload, saw, trim, and set the tree up straight.

Then, we find a bunch of really cute children.  Children who LOVE Christmas.  And we hand them strings of lights and see what they do.

Pretty good job so far.  I think we'll keep them.

What is it about these innocent young faces that make Christmas so sweet?

After the lights are on in a decent way- you know, not too heavy on the top, not all bunched together in the middle, we open the ornaments box! And we slowly unwrap each one, reminiscing as we go.
I used to buy the children a special ornament each year, but that has since gone by the wayside.  How much time can this mother spend, finding just the right ornament for each of her ten children?  I'm thinking of waiting to start again when they're married...
Anyhow, this box is full of good memories.  I get to hear lots and lots of, 'Oh Mama!  Remember this one?' and 'Hey! It's my special ornament from (fill in the blank)!'

And all the while, this little man is oh-so-quietly getting into things as we're occupied with memories and trying to keep all 50 ornaments from being hung in that one low spot in the front of the tree (the only place a 5 and 3 year-old can reach).
Here he is...unwrapping some cords and lights to chew on.  

1 comment:

  1. Love reading about your family! So beautiful! And, "Go Ducks" is something I now hear at least once a week:)! I think you should come home for a visit! Love you, Kimberly