“Okaaaay, whooo’s readyyy?” sang my wife.
The Twins stared back with tiny brows furrowed, still working out why the hell there was now a tree in our living room.
“We’re going to decorate the tree for Christmas!” she beamed. This is a tradition my wife and I look forward to every year–one we absolutely could not wait to include the Twins in. Although last year was their first Christmas, they were still about a month away from walking and even further from the precise hand technology required for hooking an ornament onto a tree branch.
However, this year would be different, as they now demonstrate proficiency in not only walking, but also running, especially away from Daddy while stealing his iPhone, and verify their accurate hand-eye coordination as they unlock said iPhone in order to delete apps and contacts (if your name begins with “M” and and you never hear from me again, it was a pleasure knowing you).
“Oh, look!” my wife chimed, pulling out the Inaugural Ornament of the 2012 Pseudonymous Christmas Season. She sat on the floor as the Twins rushed over. “This is a very special ornament that Grandma got us when you were still in Mommy’s tummy. See, these snowmen are our family. There’s a daddy snowman like Daddy, a mommy snowman like Mommy, and then a little girl snowman and a little boy snowman, like you!”
Smiles of recognition lit up their faces, and my daughter reached for it to take a closer look.
“Okay,” my wife conceded, handing it over, “but it’s glass, baby, so you have to be very carefu–”
Thus ended the Very Special Pseudonymous Snowman Family’s tenure on our tree, a tradition shattered in a single football-spike.
Although most of the Family survived the impact, sadly, one did not make it.
I can’t help feeling like the damage is a terrible omen of some kind, but I’m trying not to lose my head over it.
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If not, my daughter has a snowman ornament with your name on it.