O, Christmas Tree Trouble

Growing up, my family always put up our the first Saturday in December, and I’ve usually stuck with that timeframe now that I have my own family and I’m the self-appointed holiday decorator. That day is almost upon us, but I’m hesitant about keeping with tradition this year, thanks to my toddler son.

Isaac just turned 18 months old, and he has more than earned his nickname, Mischief Man. Simply put, he gets into everything he shouldn’t and makes a mess of it. Ike is compelled to investigate things above his station, from dismantling his big sister’s toys to jamming the buttons on the DVD player while we are watching a movie. He likes to turn the dishwasher off, mid-cycle. He has taken to gnawing on the railing of his crib like a baby beaver. He climbs up on the kids’ train table and then hollers because he’s afraid and wants to get down. No remote control is safe—in his hammy hands, they instantly become telephones on which he conducts high-finance business deals in rapid-fire gibberish while accidentally TiVoing “Access Hollywood.” He’s still not walking, believe it or not, but he’s a daredevil who will eagerly climb up to the back of the couch without fear of taking an accidental swan dive.

I could go on, but I’m sure you get the picture: What happens when we introduce a Christmas tree into the mix? Ever since the leftovers were put away, I feel like I’ve been hatching schemes for how to make this work. Maybe we put the tree somewhere he doesn’t normally play, but we have a townhouse where there are few corners outside of his reach where the rest of us could still enjoy the tree. Could we just decorate the top half, putting ornaments where he can’t reach them? That would look kind of funny and anyways, the kid has an amazing wingspan for someone who is still relatively stubby.

As always, the answer is most likely to come in the form of compromise. I guess we’ll put some tough or cheap on the bottom half of the tree and put the favorite decorations up high, hoping for the best. I’m not ruling out the possibility that he’ll pull the whole thing down, regardless of where it is or how it’s decorated. And so I sit here, listening to a music channel on my satellite radio at the end of what was a springy 65-degree day in late November, wondering whether it will be the tree or the toddler who will remain standing.