Tree Confessions

So...I have a small confession, and if anyone tells my children until they are adults I will deny it. I am only confessing because it is very relevant to our Christmas tree selection this year...

Every year, we go to the fire department and choose a tree. Last year, the kids chose a very skinny tree that was not at all to my liking--at all. So, when they went in to see the trucks I sort of did a tree switcheroo. Like...I told the firemen to put a different tree on the top of our van. When we got home, the kids thought it looked bigger, but I announced that it just looked bigger because it was in our living room instead of the tree lot. Everyone was happy.

Fast forward a year. Monday morning, we were discussing what kind of tree we would choose this year, and we all agreed we wanted a big fat one. And then Issa, the one with the memory of a whole herd of elephants, announces, "Remember, we have to choose one that looks skinny, though, because it will be bigger when we get it home."

Crap.

Mothering dilemma: to confess or not. I opted for not. I just said we could pick a bigger tree because the new furniture arrangement gave us more space. And so...we set off to the tree lot.

(As a side note, let the record show that Daddy was finding this all hilarious and was absolutely no help.)

We looked at all of the trees:

 And the kids fell in love with this one:

 It's a little skinny for me, but I did not pull a switcheroo this year. I learned my lesson. The kids will notice.

The fire department was out of twine, so we put the tree in the van:

 And Daddy got it up in the stand with very little trouble (because it is skinny):

Please notice Miss Sassy Pants. Daddy did not want to be pictured, and Issa was backing him up. Please pray for me in the teen years.