Saturday I decided it was time for the Christmas tree to go. With much complaining from the hubby that I was forcing the holiday to be over too soon, and questions from my parents as to why I was in such a hurry to take down decorations, I wrapped the ornaments back up and wiggled the tree out the back door. I was tired of pine needles, and tired of not having access to half my dining room. I was ready for the tree to be gone.
In the middle of pulling the tree through the den doorway, which was not an easy task, GM popped his head out of the living room.
GM: Where's the tree going?
GM: But where will Santa put our gifts?
Me: Buddy, Santa already came remember? He left you all those gifts.
GM: I mean, where will he put them next year, momma?
Me (smiling, of course): We'll get a new tree next year.
GM: Oh, nevermind, he can just put them by my castle like he did this year.
This mind of a 4-year-old works in mysterious ways. In a matter of 30 seconds, he went from annoyed and questioning, to know-it-all, to quite self-assured. Once I finally had his approval, I continued to twist and turn the tree until I made it outside.
Next year, I have passed the un-decorating job on to the hubby. Since he was so full of complaints, I'm quite happy to pass that role over to him. Now if only he would complain about the housework, I could tell him to do that too.