Christmas Nostalgia

Sunday we went to get our Christmas tree.  Being the fab parents we are, we set out on our mad dash mission in between lunch and naptime.  It's all about timing, don't ya' know.  Half-way to our destination, I realized just how awesome we are--it's raining and we had no stroller, no baby carrier, no umbrella, and no tie down for a tree.  Turn around and go home?  Hell no.  That's for  parents with more spare time weenies.  We carried on like the determined people we are.  Our tree-picking took place in the form of a drive-by through the lot and then me sacrificing Chris to the elements to actually get and pay for the tree.  I'm nice like that.  Try not to be amazed.  Then we crept home with our soggy tree because the lot attendant warned that our precious tree was going to slide off the top of the car.  (It didn't, in case you were wondering.)

This experience of parent-fails family togetherness harkened me back to my childhood.  My family loaded into the cab of my dad's Silverado pick-up truck.  Yep.  That's the model that would burst into flames if in an accident at just the right place. 

This looks pretty much just like my dad's truck minus the bubbly do-it-yourself window tinting, funky smell and random shop rag for snotty noses under the front seat.  Can you imagine four people in the cab of this truck?  What?  Seat belts?  Nope, we didn't use those in the 80s.  You know what we did use? Flocked trees.  Mmmhmm.  Amazingness. This is what our tree doesn't look like this year, but did in my childhood.  

My childhood tree also included rad bubble lights.  Drats that they are fire hazards, because the special effects were mesmerizing.

I guess I'm now realizing all things I loved about my childhood Christmases may have been life-endangering. I'm guess that judging by Sunday, our children will have the same recollection of their childhoods.