It’s early afternoon. The Christmas tree is set up in the living room. Yesterday, the three of us went out to buy this beautiful fir tree, eight feet tall. The fresh, woodsy smell fills the house. I am itching to start, but I promised myself that Marc should be present for the decoration. He is still taking his afternoon nap.
He doesn’t keep me waiting for long. He soon wakes up and is eager to play with the pretty colorful baubles I have bought. I see him eyeing the scintillating glass angels. He starts crawling toward them. They are made of thin glass. This can be dangerous. To distract him, I give him one of the quilted ornaments that my aunt Jane has sent as a present for our first Christmas after our marriage. There are six of them all hand-sewn.
While I wrap the light strands around the tree, Marc scatters all six around him and randomly picks one, holds it in his hand for a few seconds then throws it toward me. He then decides to bring the last one himself. He crawls toward the tree and sits near the lowest branch. He looks up, holds up the ornament and gives me a big toothy smile. He wants to help! I pick him up and we start filling the branches. I help him hold the wired end of each ornament and slide it in the branch. After each successful attempt, he laughs with glee and reaches out for the next one. We continue in this manner until all the branches are full and the tree is sparkling. The empty boxes are scattered on the floor.
“Nice job!” I say to Marc. He smiles and bobs his head approvingly. “We make a good team.”