He ran from tree to tree, pointing out each one, asking "Is this one it?" and answering himself, Nah, too prickly, too little, too big, too pine coney, too whatever. The other people at the tree farm were laughing at him as he zig-zagged his way through the trees. I can only compare his actions to Hammy from Over the Hedge, aka the squirrel on crack.
My mom finally picked out her Christmas bush, err... tree. I swear it was rounder than it was tall. She starts to saw the trunk while I held the top. As a few minutes passed, I heard her utter a curse word or two. And, my momma never swears. She continues trying to cut, and I can hear GM several rows over with hubby. I turn to look for them and get a huge mouthful of pine needles. Nothing like frostbite, cussing, and a true taste of pine to get you in the holiday spirit.