Every year, for as long as I can remember, I’ve had a Christmas Tree. A real, pine-smell-emitting, cut from the Earth, needle-dropping, Christmas tree.

“It’s so weird that we put a tree inside our house,” Alex admitted to me while we were decorating the tree last night.

It is weird, for sure, but it’s also lovely. It smells so wonderful and looks so pretty and makes me feel so warm. So peaceful, happy, loved, and Christmas-y.

The last two years we have purchased our tree at a local farm, and this year Alex was lucky enough to get his own tree. He was quite insistent that he get a five foot tree, but, sorry kid!, no way.

He loves his tree. His tiny little tree. His huggable, still delicious-smelling, needle-dropping, cut from the Earth, real Christmas tree.