Leila and Ali went with me last week to pick up a Christmas tree. Usually I paint a branch white and hang ornaments on that, in the spirit of a llano Christmas. However, this year we bought a potted Norfolk Pine, because it reminded me of the ferns I used to gather from new radio tower hill and bring home to my room to decorate with the tiniest of our Christmas balls. The fern always bent under their weight, though I was oh so careful, and soon turned brown, but I loved Christmas so much that I wanted my own tree in my own room.
So we got the tree into the cart and out to the car, got the kids into the car, and I wrested the tree into the front seat, the top just bending slightly against the roof. Leila immediately dubbed the tree "Grandma," and began to talk to it. This continued on all evening as we decorated "her" and plugged in the lights, and the next morning as well. "You're so pretty Grandma." "I hope this doesn't hurt you Grandma." "Good morning Grandma. Did you sleep well?"
She's still coming out with comments every once in while.
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