by Emma Redmer
I honestly don't remember when I wrote this one anymore. It might have been for an online writing class. Decorating the Christmas tree in my large family tended to be chaotic at best. I'm actually the one who fell off the chair and broke it while trying to put on an ornament. In my defense, we'd been decorating for two hours, and it was late. The huge display with the lights and the radio sign was actually based after the display on the house across the street from me at the time. That family has since moved away, and the current residents no longer do exterior decorations.
Dear Grandma Anne-Marie;
Tree decorating is going about as well as can be expected. Dad insisted on doing the lights. Mom had her reasons to be skeptical. Dad did the lights on our house. You’ll know our house when you see it. You can see it from Venus. The entire front of the house is wrapped in lights. There’s so many inflatable objects, Dad’s told Louise and Jenny to play in the back yard until next month. Worse yet, the lights blink. And Dad has a very big sign advertising the radio station his buddy is a DJ on. Yeah, like everyone wants to see “Listen to WORK This Christmas!” while gawking at a light-up Santa sculpture the size of a ten-year-old.
Ouch. Dad just fell over. Don’t worry, he didn’t break anything. Only the chair. It was an old chair, anyway. I think I learned most of my blue language from Mom and Dad putting the lights on the tree. Mom’s fussing that they shouldn’t have bought such a big tree. I don’t know why. It’s pretty. It only took Dad three days to trim it down to size. Who believes those guys at the lot anyway? You’d never know that tree was ten feet in the lot. They look smaller inside.
Jenny and Louise are giggling about something. They’ve been sorting out ornaments, untangling hooks from balls and arguing over who made that clay wreath with the paint job that looks like someone dumped green paint on it. When I stopped them, they just gave me the “we’re cute but are about to do something evil” looks. I warned them that our folks were not up to them doing something crazy. Wait, hold on...
Sorry about that. I just had to help Mom get the tree back in the stand. I have no idea where Dad or the girls are. Mom said Dad went to get the spare lights. You know how those older lights work. If one goes out, they all go out. Dad said he thought he had some in his workshop in the shed. Why they’re in the shed when the Christmas stuff is in the attic is a question I’m sure only Dad has a sensible answer to. I’m going to go help him. He thinks he knows where everything is. “It’s in order! It’s in my order!” His “order” has hammers in the refrigerator and packs of nails on the bookshelf next to his building bibles.
I am going to kill my sisters. Dad is sitting on his big armchair in the living room. He keeps saying he needs to go to the hospital, but Mom doesn’t think they have anything for a sore rear end. She is mad he broke the ornaments, though. He said we should never have bought those little bell ornaments in the first place. They work like marbles. Walk on a bunch of them; end up on your rear. Jenny and Louise are nowhere to be found.
Great. Mom wants me to find the girls. Like I’m their keeper now? She says she’s busy putting the glass balls on. And where’s the tinsel? She claims she bought three packs of tinsel, and it’s nowhere to be found. It’s probably sitting on her desk in the office.
Jenny and Louise are sitting in time-outs on opposite ends of the house. I caught them trying to make Tiger look festive. The cat was not amused. Then again, he’s a cat. Very little amuses him. I’m glad I got the tinsel off of him before he attempted to eat it. I doubt metal hairballs taste very good, and they’re probably heck on the digestive system. I managed to save two packs. I’m going to help Mom finish the tinsel. Wait a minute...
Grandma, if this looks funny, I’m writing it in the dark. Dad’s light display blew out the neighborhood grid again. Dad’s going down to the basement to check the fuses.
Yeowch, that didn’t sound good. I didn’t know anyone could do a Goofy yell in real life. I think Dad’s going to need more ice. Sounds like the little girls had bells in a few more places they neglected to mention. No more “Home Alone” for those two.
You have a great holiday, Grandma! Eat a piece of your cranberry-apple pie for me!
Love, Kathleen
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