When we were done, we saw just how truly large it was. It covered the entire window. Yes, light could shine through, but that was about it.
"No more staring out the window at me," he teased, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
"No, I guess not. But don't worry, Mr. Whiskers can still stare at you."
It was near midnight when Mr. Whiskers first dared to try the condo. I had expected him to be all about it from the get-go, but he had been far more interested in the box the pieces came in. So on brand for a cat.
We were thrilled when he decided he liked it enough to sleep in the mushroom bed.
"Ready for bed, my baby boy?"
"I think so." I was exhausted, but also not ready for the night to be over.
"You think so? Was there something else you wanted to do?"
"I-I don't know. It feels like we're not ready for Christmas, and tomorrow, well, technically, right now is Christmas Eve."
He turned me in his arms and held my hand. "What would you like to do to feel more ready for Christmas?"
"Don't you think my tree looks kind of Charlie Brown?" It was a fake one, and it wasn't as bad as Charlie Brown's, but it sure wasn't good.
"Did you want to go to the tree farm in the morning and cut our own?"
"Yes, Daddy?" It shouldn't have been a question, and yet it was.
"Then go get some sleep, and I'll pick you up at 8 a.m."
I wanted to ask him to stay, as he did most nights, but he'd already told me that he had to help a neighbor who was getting a delivery first thing in the morning, so it made sense he had to go home. That didn't mean I liked it.
"You go get ready for bed," he said. "I’ll make you a bottle, and then, before you know it, I'll be back here again."
That "before you know it" always sounded like a platitude because, of course, you waited every minute for that. But I woke up to him coming in, having forgotten to set my alarm and sleeping in, something I wouldn’t have dreamed of happening even three weeks earlier.
"My sweet baby boy, look at you. Sound asleep. Do you want to skip the tree?"
"No, I'm up, Daddy. I'm up!" I ran to the bathroom so fast and got ready quicker than ever.
We drove through the coffee shop, where I grabbed a bagel sandwich and some hot cocoa, and then off we went on the hour-long drive to the tree farm. I'd never gotten my own tree before, not fresh out of the ground. I expected it to be more eventful than it was. All we did was get on a tractor that took us to any of the trees we wanted, then we cut it down and brought it home. There was no fanfare, no Santa's Village. But that was probably better because I had my very own Santa.
That was when the fun began. We set up the tree in the stand Santa brought with him, and he told me he'd be right back.When he returned, he had a huge tote with him, red and green, the colors of Christmas.
"Where'd that come from?"
"It was in my car. Where do you think I went last night? To sleep?”
Well, yeah. Kinda.
“I stopped at the 24-hour big-box store to grab some supplies. Can't have a tree without decorations."
He set the box down, and when he opened it up, it was filled with lights, Christmas balls, and cute little Christmas trees and character ornaments. Christmas threw up in that tote, and I loved it.
I turned the television to the channel that played the Yule log for the three days surrounding Christmas, a tradition that seemed to live on forever despite streaming services, and then piped in some Christmas music from a playlist I had been working on the past week or so.
"We should do this next year, too, Daddy," I said, leaning back against him as we admired the work we had just completed. The tree was beyond full of ornaments, and by some miracle, Mr. Whiskers had zero interest in it at all.
"I think we should do it next year too. And maybe we can even make some ornaments of our own for that tree." It was the first time Daddy mentioned that far into the future, and it was better than any tree, any present, any cookie.
"That sounds perfect, Daddy. Absolutely perfect."
