Bringing in the tree..!
Robert Clements
Monday, December 26, 2011 - Every year I bring the Christmas Tree into my sitting room. It was a small tree many years ago, and I still remember buying it late one night as I came back from a party guiltily remembering there was no tree at home. The children were happy when they saw it the next day. But like all trees, this one grew, first the little pot I’d brought it in, then it broke the next one with it’s roots and now sits in a gigantic pot.
And every year I bring it down. It’s quite a task, because the top leaves now touch the ceiling. I tell my driver and he gets the gardener and the sweeper. They roll up their sleeves, make a lot of noise, heave and push and pull, put a mat under it when it enters the house so that it won’t spoil the floor and take it to the spot I direct them to take it to. Since I was going out this morning, I’d planned to bring the tree in after I’d returned, but the wife, a doctor, who didn’t have any cases in the morning had decided that the tree should be brought down in the morning itself, so she could decorate the tree in her free hours. Obviously she had worked this out methodically in her little black diary-Monday morning-decorate tree, and since I don’t argue with little black note books and don’t argue with those who guarantee me good health, I told my gardener and the sweeper to bring the tree in.
“Will you see the tree is put right?” I asked my daughter who had always been there when the driver and the gardener and sweeper rolled up their sleeves, made a lot of noise, heaved and pushed and pulled, put a mat under it when it entered the house so that it wouldn’t spoil the floor and took it to the spot I normally directed them to take it to. She nodded, and the wife then said, “No, let them wait till you come back!” But like I said I never argued with her little black diary which in all probability had in black letters- Monday morning-decorate tree!
“It’s okay,” I said, “she’ll see to it,” and since my car had come I ran down and out. I didn’t worry about the tree, but I got a call a little later, “Tree in place!” I smiled. I had, had no doubts that she would handle it. When I came home the huge Christmas tree who’s top touched the ceiling was in place. No part of the flooring was scraped. Pot wasn’t broken, and it looked quite regal and very much as if it had stood in the same spot all the year through.
I know my daughter will go back to her college in Seattle in a month’s time. I know she has quite often to fend for herself. But I know that she can handle responsibility. Throughout her childhood, I’ve told her to do something or other, and left her in charge. There have been mistakes, but more often than not, she’s come through with flying colours, “I got it done faster than you’ve done it all these years!” she said and I smiled to myself. Teach your child to handle responsibility. Maybe your floor will be scraped, your tree short by a branch or two, but you are teaching them to stand on their own two little feet..!
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
And every year I bring it down. It’s quite a task, because the top leaves now touch the ceiling. I tell my driver and he gets the gardener and the sweeper. They roll up their sleeves, make a lot of noise, heave and push and pull, put a mat under it when it enters the house so that it won’t spoil the floor and take it to the spot I direct them to take it to. Since I was going out this morning, I’d planned to bring the tree in after I’d returned, but the wife, a doctor, who didn’t have any cases in the morning had decided that the tree should be brought down in the morning itself, so she could decorate the tree in her free hours. Obviously she had worked this out methodically in her little black diary-Monday morning-decorate tree, and since I don’t argue with little black note books and don’t argue with those who guarantee me good health, I told my gardener and the sweeper to bring the tree in.
“Will you see the tree is put right?” I asked my daughter who had always been there when the driver and the gardener and sweeper rolled up their sleeves, made a lot of noise, heaved and pushed and pulled, put a mat under it when it entered the house so that it wouldn’t spoil the floor and took it to the spot I normally directed them to take it to. She nodded, and the wife then said, “No, let them wait till you come back!” But like I said I never argued with her little black diary which in all probability had in black letters- Monday morning-decorate tree!
“It’s okay,” I said, “she’ll see to it,” and since my car had come I ran down and out. I didn’t worry about the tree, but I got a call a little later, “Tree in place!” I smiled. I had, had no doubts that she would handle it. When I came home the huge Christmas tree who’s top touched the ceiling was in place. No part of the flooring was scraped. Pot wasn’t broken, and it looked quite regal and very much as if it had stood in the same spot all the year through.
I know my daughter will go back to her college in Seattle in a month’s time. I know she has quite often to fend for herself. But I know that she can handle responsibility. Throughout her childhood, I’ve told her to do something or other, and left her in charge. There have been mistakes, but more often than not, she’s come through with flying colours, “I got it done faster than you’ve done it all these years!” she said and I smiled to myself. Teach your child to handle responsibility. Maybe your floor will be scraped, your tree short by a branch or two, but you are teaching them to stand on their own two little feet..!
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
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