Oh, Christmas "Tree"

Ladies, I have seen the light! And it’s coming from the 1,200 tiny, white, “worry-free” bulbs attached to our “100% Genuine Synthetic Pre-Lit American Fir Tree.”
 
A true Christmas miracle, our eight-foot artificial tree can be assembled in six minutes. Five if someone gets Daddy a nice, cold Guinness. There’s nothing to water. No needles to sweep. And no wonky branches or bald spots to hide behind oversized ornaments. It is completely and utterly devoid of character. And I love every artificial inch of it.
 
There was a time when I scoffed at the idea of artificial trees and pitied the sad, tacky souls who thought such things were pretty. There was also a time when I thought Botox was only for self-obsessed bimbos. In other words: Was blind but now I see.
 
The fact is this: once you and your spouse have spent two hours attempting to straighten the leaning tower of tree trunk, decking the halls can wind up being a lonely, one-woman pursuit. I enjoy having decked the halls, but the solitary exercise of stringing up lights does little to warm the cockles of my heart. Red wine, on the other hand? My cockles really like red wine. So, more wine and less whining about “this stupid $^%#$! Christmas tree stand” is one of the best Christmas presents I could ask for.
 
But look at me acting like artificial trees are something new! Sure, the pre-lit variety is a relatively recent invention, but according to the San Francisco Chronicle, the number of artificial trees displayed in American homes exceeded the number of real ones way back in the 1990s, shortly after the invention of the wheel. And if you still think fake foliage is an emblem of poor taste, pop on over to TreeClassics.com, retailer of “The World’s Finest Artificial Christmas Trees.” One click on their “Classy Clients” link will set you straight. Me and UT. That’s all I have to say.

I admit that when we first decided on fake foliage, I questioned whether we were robbing our boys of some holiday magic. When I was a little girl, picking out a Christmas tree and watching my parents pay someone to put it in the stand was a cherished holiday tradition. But kids are adaptable creatures. As far as they’re concerned, fake is the new real.

We were having dinner at Famous Dave’s when my oldest son turned to the family in the next booth and said, “Santa is very excited to see our Christmas tree.”

“Oh really!” the mother of the group said. “Did you help decorate it?”

“No,” he told her. “We have to go home and build it first.”

At 8 p.m., the boys got to work. And at 8:05 p.m., when the last branch was snapped in place and the last needle fluffed, I turned off all the lights in the dining room and did the honors.

“Beautiful!” I said. “Now you guys can help me put the ornaments on.”

“How about I just watch?” my husband said.

“Yeah, Mommy,” our 4-year-old agreed. “We’re pretty tired from putting up the tree.” 

Some traditions never die.