Tree Trauma

It is beginning to look a lot like Christmas in our house.

Yesterday Robby had off from school because his teacher needed a personal day, and she had a difficult time securing a substitute. I was going to take him on an educational trip, but when we woke to a dreary foggy day, we decided to stay inside in our pajamas. Instead of learning, we opted to spend our free day baking and decorating.  If you ask me, we made a wise decision.

 Our tree is erect and beautifully lit. Because we don't trust Timmy with any ornaments, we opted to use only lights this year. While little Hamlet was sleeping, Robby and I strung 3,000 bright and colorful LED lights through the branches. I have no doubt that Santa will be able to see our tree when flying through our neighborhood! 

I was certain that Timmy would be awestruck by the colorfully lit Christmas tree. Toddling down the hallway after his nap, he did not react as expected. Instead of being enthralled, he was utterly terrified. Using the corner for cover and peeking past it, he hid and began to cry.

I scooped him up and held him to examine the tree. He sobbed for nearly 20 minutes, pointing to the tree (which by that point had been hurriedly unplugged) and refusing to release his tight grasp on my shirt. Based on his reaction to discovering a tree in the house, I am not overly optimistic that he is going to enjoy sitting on Santa's lap this year.