I put this picture on here mostly to bother Ian, but the rest of you reading this can feel free to be bothered, as well. My grandma made me this Frosty The Snowman when I was really little, and it has been part of my Christmas decorating all my life. Ian thinks that Frosty is kind of scary (sorry, Grandma, if you are reading this), and has a steely, serial-killer gleam in his eye. This has only made my affection for Frosty grow deeper with each passing year. I make sure to put him someplace prominent every Christmas season, ideally someplace where Ian's path can cross Frosty's jolly gaze as often as possible.
Frosty posed for his Christmas portrait beautifully, but I had more difficulty with Max. I was trying to get him to wear a Santa hat (which looked so cute it was almost painful during the two seconds it stayed on his head) so I could take a picture of him in it. What I ended up with were several charming action shots of Max removing and throwing the Santa hat.
Frosty notwithstanding, Ian is having a more triumphant Christmas season than usual. Due to Max's penchant for climbing big stuff and eating small stuff around the house, I was forced to face the fact that a giant, floor-to-ceiling tree is not in the cards this year. Ian, who has wanted a small tree every year of our marriage (claiming that the person who has to carry and set up the tree should get to choose the size), and who has been outvoted for the same number of years, finally got his way. We got a little potted table-top tree, which reminds me of the little tree that Charlie Brown gets in his Christmas special. Despite his victory, however, Ian did not find the little tree as problem-free to carry as he hoped. For some reason, this tree has the sharpest needles in the known universe, and it was painful to carry inside, to set up, and to decorate. I have named it Spike.
Last year, Max was three months old by Christmas, and did little more than sleep under the tree while we took pictures of him. This year, he is very aware of the tree. He wanted to pet it desperately, and was completely undeterred by the injuries sustained by both parents during interactions with Spike. He seems to think that it's funny that we have a tree in the house (it is kind of funny, if you think about it), and keeps pointing to it and laughing.
Spike in all his Christmas glory. Next year, we are going back to the full-size tree. Make your peace with it, Ian, or Frosty will be coming after you. Those two little kids on either side of him? They're people that crossed me. Now Frosty has them in his icy embrace forever, Ian.
I put this picture on here mostly to bother Ian, but the rest of you reading this can feel free to be bothered, as well. My grandma made me this Frosty The Snowman when I was really little, and it has been part of my Christmas decorating all my life. Ian thinks that Frosty is kind of scary (sorry, Grandma, if you are reading this), and has a steely, serial-killer gleam in his eye. This has only made my affection for Frosty grow deeper with each passing year. I make sure to put him someplace prominent every Christmas season, ideally someplace where Ian's path can cross Frosty's jolly gaze as often as possible.
Frosty posed for his Christmas portrait beautifully, but I had more difficulty with Max. I was trying to get him to wear a Santa hat (which looked so cute it was almost painful during the two seconds it stayed on his head) so I could take a picture of him in it. What I ended up with were several charming action shots of Max removing and throwing the Santa hat.
Frosty notwithstanding, Ian is having a more triumphant Christmas season than usual. Due to Max's penchant for climbing big stuff and eating small stuff around the house, I was forced to face the fact that a giant, floor-to-ceiling tree is not in the cards this year. Ian, who has wanted a small tree every year of our marriage (claiming that the person who has to carry and set up the tree should get to choose the size), and who has been outvoted for the same number of years, finally got his way. We got a little potted table-top tree, which reminds me of the little tree that Charlie Brown gets in his Christmas special. Despite his victory, however, Ian did not find the little tree as problem-free to carry as he hoped. For some reason, this tree has the sharpest needles in the known universe, and it was painful to carry inside, to set up, and to decorate. I have named it Spike. 
Last year, Max was three months old by Christmas, and did little more than sleep under the tree while we took pictures of him. This year, he is very aware of the tree. He wanted to pet it desperately, and was completely undeterred by the injuries sustained by both parents during interactions with Spike. He seems to think that it's funny that we have a tree in the house (it is kind of funny, if you think about it), and keeps pointing to it and laughing.
Spike in all his Christmas glory. Next year, we are going back to the full-size tree. Make your peace with it, Ian, or Frosty will be coming after you. Those two little kids on either side of him? They're people that crossed me. Now Frosty has them in his icy embrace forever, Ian.
3 comments:
HURRAY FOR CHRISTMAS!
Merritt is going to be 6mos on Christmas... he is screeching for the most insignificant objects I can't wait to see him go nuts on a tree.
I don't know where in your background you developed this need to torture others with musical Christmas ornaments. Certainly isn't my side of the family.
Just you wait for the latest post, Granny. All the Christmas skeletons are coming out of the closet now.
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