It is my duty as Lucy's mother and as my Mom's daughter to force traditions upon my family. I apologize for putting them through these activities, but lucky for me Paul is nice enough to entertain my insistence and Lucy doesn't get a choice. I am hopeful that someday, after the phase where she hates all of this and resents me for it, she will love and appreciate these traditions too.
Cutting down a Christmas tree every is a tradition I LOVE and will never let go of. I know it is cheaper, easier and faster to head to the nearest grocery store where they are selling trees in the parking lot, and you can get a really beautiful Fraser Fir and often times a portion of the proceeds go to a good cause, and yada, yada, yada. I don't care. I love the fresh air and the crisp smell of the tree farm, Paul lying on the ground while we wait in anticipation for the tree to fall, the warm barn with apple cider and cheap chocolate cookie sandwiches that awaits you after you've made the all-important decision of selecting the perfect tree; these memories mean so much to me and they signal that Christmas is really coming.
This year Lucy fell fast asleep in the car right as we were pulling up to the tree farm, she slept through me getting her out of the car seat very ungracefully, she slept through the bumpy hayrack ride out to the field where we were going to choose our tree from and after carrying her 25 pound body around while we hemmed and hawwed over trees, she finally woke up and was ready to join the fun.
Although this year's trip was much less eventful than last year's trip - - I should document that story here at some point - - it was equally as awesome. A little girl and her dog walking around a Christmas Tree Farm is a really good time.