I really should have taken a picture of my Christmas tree before Aidan got to it. Here, let me paint you a textual picture:
A 7.5 foot tall Wesley pine tree, lush and full and dark green forever because it’s fake but the fakeitude is only obvious if you get too close to it. Looping across the width of the tree are strands of colored lights, glowing bright (but not too bright, because they’re not LEDs) in tandem with strands of silver and gold garland beads.
Dangling off the ends of the branches are red, silver, and white ornaments festooned with silver and gold glitter. Poking through these ornaments are family and heirloom ornaments, every one of which has a story, and for some extra flavor there are red and white candy canes here, there, and everywhere.
At the top, there’s a beautiful white star that lights up and shows off the gold swirls that are painted onto it.
This was before. It looked nice, really nice if I do say so.
And then Aidan got to it.
Now, the garlands are diagonal and uneven, the ornaments are grouped in weird places, and the lights are no longer strung straight but are, rather, pulled into random loops by tiny toddler fists.
I got sick of policing my freaking tree, so this morning I moved all the ornaments and garlands up high enough to keep them beyond Aidan’s reach. The tree looks half-finished, but it’s better than constantly telling Aidan not to touch the shiny, pretty things we placed so cruelly at eye level.
Even when we had a puppy, I can say with perfect certainty that Christmas has never been such a pain. My goodness, Christmas decorations are toddler magnets! And none of them are durable enough to be played with by my wrecking ball of a child.
I mean, unless I got rubber ornaments I doubt any decorations would be strong enough to withstand Aidan’s loving attention.
I look forward to future Christmases when my children are big enough to help me decorate the tree and are old enough to look with their eyes. While I understand Aidan’s pathos to experience Christmas, I wonder how many ornaments will survive it…