Maybe I’m the only person on the planet allergic to artificial Christmas trees, but our family goes every year to get a real tree. We’ve braved the winding back roads of North Carolina in a minivan, trekking up a windy snow-covered mountain for the perfect tree to cut. Now that we live in a Detroit suburb there’s a nursery lot full of pre-cut “perfect trees” (trucked in from North Carolina) just 2 miles from our house. Tree acquisition has been streamlined.

However, our excitement (especially that of the children) surrounding this event and all things Christmas remains undaunted. As we piled out of the tree-laden minivan, the children bounced up and down, mittened hands clapping with anticipation. They could hardly contain themselves waiting for Dad to untie the tree and bring it in for decorating. So they “organized” the Christmas decorations.

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