Get Daddy, Tree, Get Daddy

We've had rather a quiet day around here. John's cold is still raging, but he's not meeting any of the criteria for taking him to the hospital: 1. febrile, 2. dehydrated, 3. not breathing well, and so we continue to stay home and wipe snot. The weather here is cold, in the 20's and there is a fine film of ice on everything, including the church parking lot of the in town congregation so confirmation and church were called off there for this evening and tomorrow morning leaving us with a full day to hang out together and maybe get the Christmas tree up.

Our Christmas tree is pretty enormous, it was bought pre-child and when we lived in a much larger house, and so it takes quite a bit to put it up. John was sitting in the floor enjoying helping daddy with branches and I was in the kitchen cooking supper when I heard John start screaming and crying like he was frightened and hurt all at the same time. Since Mark wasn't saying anything, there had been no big thuds, and there was no fussing or hollering coming out of the living room I didn't figure too much was up but when I came around the corner to see what was wrong Mark was under the tree, just his feet and legs sticking out working on lights and John was sitting on the floor frantically signing 'get daddy, get daddy, tree, get daddy'. I couldn't help but laugh as I picked him up and held him, and started to reassure him that daddy was fine, but of course he was not having any of it until dad was spit out by the killer tree and came to talk to him and console him too.

Until today Christmas trees has been one of John's all time favorite things, each morning he asks to go and see the Christmas tree, the one that the neighbors have lit in their front yard. I'm hoping tomorrow he will be happy to see that ours is all together. Maybe making and hanging some ornaments on it will help, but surely we won't be having Mark crawl under it and hide :)