It is February, but still looks like December in my house. My 3-year-old daughter won’t let me take down her Christmas tree. It’s just a small artificial tree tucked in the corner of the playroom. She pleaded with me to leave it up when I took the other decorations down. I figured she would forget about it a few days later. She did not. I’ve tried to get rid of it, sneaking around as the Grinch while she slept. The next day, she scanned the room like the Terminator demanding to know, “Where is my tree?” I told her we cannot leave it up all year. “Why not?” Well, because we have a full set of teeth, wouldn’t wear a NASCAR t-shirt to a funeral or put a confederate flag in the window of our pick up truck. We are part of the Target shopping middle class and we will act like it damn it! She pleaded with me, “But it is pretty!” I thought about my reason for wanting to tuck it away in the closet despite her tears. Would I be embarrassed if we had company? Who cares! I’m not living in Downton Abbey. (Am I the only one who thought they lived in DownTOWN Abbey?) There won’t be any surprise royal visitors. Those chicks aren’t above me anyway. They marry their cousins.
If age didn’t come with wrinkles and belly fat it would be an incredible thing. The older you get the less you care what other people think of you. The tree is staying put. We may even decorate it for Valentine’s Day, Easter, etc. (Cue: Banjo)