So we missed the actual "lighting of the tree" part of Friday night's tree lighting, but we had fun anyway. And besides it was at least marginally warmer in the pizza place where we had dinner beforehand.
Poor Sam and his friend, O, had probably had it with us by the end of the night, which came about 45 minutes after the start of the night. Cold, tired, and (probably still) hungry is no way to spend a night out. Add to that the din of chainsaws from the Christmas tree sale, and it's not exactly good times for the 14-month-old crowd.
Even so, it was nice to be out on a Friday night, even if it was Siberia cold, and to smell the freshly cut trees and drink some hot coffee drinks.
We went yesterday to get our tree, and if I hadn't picked up on it on Friday night, Samson was kind enough to point out again his discomfort with the sound of a chainsaw. I was holding him as the guy made a fresh cut on our tree, and Sam's little body started to quake from the soles of his feet on up --- sort of like that guy in the "Beat It" video.
Poor little guy; once the saw stopped --- and with the not unwelcome distraction of a bus heading downtown--- he was fine. We got the tree tied to the car's roof rack and made it home without further incident. [Not that it was on anyone's short list for young Samson, but just in case: this is definitely not the way to go this year.]
Vicki and I sat up last night decorating it and trying our best to keep the holiday music station on --- does anyone honestly hear Barry Manilow's "Jingle Bells" and think "At last, now I'm in the Christmas mood."
And is there a soul alive who hears "Frosty the Snowman" by The Ronettes and doesn't picture all the Goodfellas guys from the airport heist getting whacked shortly after Christmas?
I'm not trying to be a grinch here, but really...
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