I learned a long time ago that if I was getting a live Christmas tree I should not be the one going to get it.
One year the children and spouse went to get the tree.
I stayed home getting things ready.
The tree was brought in.
It was the tree from hell.
No matter what we did or how many times we reshaped the trunk it would not stand up or stay in the tree base.
I was sweating.
I was cussing.
And it had been a nightmare getting the tree in the house. It was cut, shaped, turned, we even tried tying it up.
In one of my finer moments of life with children…. I decided that damn tree had to go. I think the kids were a little scared when I told them to open the doors.
From the living room, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and out the hallway to the outside door there were two doors. I told them to get those doors open. And to get out of the way.
I stood with the massive tree in front of me. I wrapped my arms around it and picked it up. I had to keep it vertical. This wasn’t going to be any cartoon where I tried to get the tree out by holding it horizontal. This was a one shot deal.
The kids went out on the deck and I yelled “HERE I COME!”
I started running that massive tree through the house. Branches scratching everything as I ran through every room out to the deck and threw that evergreen tree airborne to the ground below.
THAT felt good. Very good.
I turned around with a smile on my face. The kids were smiling.
Troubles were done.
I love that moment.