Sunday afternoon, Crew Rogers made its annual Yuletide sortie to Home Depot for a Christmas tree. We went to the situation on Garland Highway, over the objections of my spouse, who wished to go to the situation on Skillman as a result of a co-worker of hers had advised her the choice there was higher. As I defined, although, we’d have to move the tree farther, which might imply —
By no means thoughts. Let’s not lavatory down in that entire debate. We went to the situation on Garland.
So we’re within the tree tent. Me personally, I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic, what with the masks and the shut quarters and the opposite tree buyers disregarding the one-way signage. The missus grabs an roughly 9-foot noble fir, stands it up, and asks for my opinion.
“Too tall,” I say. “We do this every year.”
I’m 6 toes tall. We reside in a midcentury trendy with a sloping ceiling. At its lowest level, the place we put the tree, I can attain up and practically contact the ceiling. So yearly I stand subsequent to the primary 4 or 5 bushes she selects, and I increase my hand as excessive as it can go, and I say, “Too tall.”
That is what I’m doing Sunday — standing subsequent to the tree with my hand raised like I’ve bought a urgent query and am wanting to be known as upon — when the missus lets go of the tree. The tree falls into the aisle the place a 4-year-old boy is innocently strolling, unaware of the hazards that encompass him. He’s in all probability occupied with Oreos. Bam. The noble fir scores a direct hit, takes him cleanly off his toes.
At which level I ask the missus, “What are you doing? You just knocked that kid over.”
“You did that,” she counters. “You were holding the tree.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I appropriately level out. “I was standing next to the tree with my hand in the air to show you it’s too tall for our house. But apparently it’s just the right height to kill small children.”
The little boy’s father has him in his arms now. The child isn’t crying, which is spectacular. Robust child. It was an unsightly hit. If it had been a soccer recreation, my spouse would have been disqualified for concentrating on, and the child would have been put by way of concussion protocol.
My spouse and I proceed to argue for longer than might be affordable, earlier than I determine to be the grownup on this entire ordeal and say to the daddy, “I am sooo sorry that my wife did that.” He mutters that it’s OK and attracts the boy tighter to his chest as he hurries away.
Anyway, the kid survived (so far as I do know), and we discovered a tree after we left the Garland Highway Home Depot and went to the Skillman location, the place my spouse had wished to go within the first place. It wasn’t fairly a Christmas miracle, however in these unprecedented instances, you’re taking what you get.