O Christmas Tree

I spent fifteen minutes yesterday as the official tree-holder.

Okay, I got a little bit ahead of myself there. Sorry. Anyway . . .

Once upon a time in a little town called Bethlehem . . .

Wrong story. :) hehe.

“Can’t you do anything right, Charlie Brown???”

I know, I know. (By the way, who hasn’t watched A Charlie Brown Christmas yet this season?)

Let’s try this again.

Once upon a time . . .

     I quickly loaded my math (groan) into our MacBook laptop. I grabbed my black-and-blue headphones and plugged them into the side. Pulling them up and over my ears, I waited patiently for the computer to load. I heard the loud buzz of the computer at work, and then I clicked on the icon for my math on the main screen and saw it pop up. I put in my password and then scrolled down the list of lessons. I clicked on my current lesson and listened to the lecture. I let my mind wander a bit (as I always do) and then, after the lesson was done, I did a few math problems, occasionally using the calculator when I needed it.

     A geometry problem popped up. I groaned and struggled through it, trying to match the right angles.

    Suddenly, I heard a loud CRASH and what sounded like plastic balls bouncing on hard wood floor. A shout echoed throughout the house and a genuine “I’m sooo sorry, Mom!”

    “That doesn’t fix the tree!” I heard my mom shoot back.

    Sighing, I gently closed the computer lid and undid my headphones. I opened up my bedroom door and walked down the stairs.

    I turned into the formal dining room and groaned. Our Christmas tree had fallen to the ground, pine needles and ornaments everywhere. Water from the base had spread, making the floor a wild, slippery, Christmas-y mess.

    I was tempted to go to the piano and play Beethoven’s fifth: Dun dun dun dunh! But I restrained.

    “Go get Emma for me,” she told my brother Caleb, who had knocked down the tree. “No, never mind. Stay here.”

     “Emma!!” my mom called, and I replied softly, “I’m here, Mom.”

     My mom obviously didn’t hear me, and called for me again. “EMMA!!!!”

     “I’m here, Mom,” I said again as she tried to boost it up.

     “Sorry,” my mom said, her cheeks flushed. “Here, help me boost the tree up.”