Christmas stuff, mostly

I just put up our SECOND tree last night.

With much effort, I tried not to complain about the fake Christmas tree that K hauled up from the basement. I couldn't involve myself in decorating the thing, because Christmas isn't Christmas (to me) without a real tree....
But I have to admit, K and the kids did a great job. It looked good, actually.

Then, a couple of mornings ago, before I was fully awake, I heard a CRASH....
and then an "Uh, oh."

Silence.

I dragged myself out of bed, practically crawling down the hall in my tired state, to see my darling boys standing before a prostrate Christmas tree.

"We tried to get the angel", they mumbled, staring at the needle-filled carpet.

I tried to resurrect the thing, but the stand cracked in two, and the top wouldn't stay on.

K picked up a real tree yesterday, and we put it up last night, with the Muppets Christmas Story playing in the background. Well, my background anyway....the kids were glued to the TV. They didn't want to decorate again, I guess.

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We received a big ol' box filled with chocolates and cookies from our dear Scottish friend, Gillian, who now lives in N. Ireland. I love her exponentially now. Does that word even make sense there? The box and card were addressed to the whole family, yet it took me at least two days to decide to share with K and the kids.
I have to say, I am not about saving these delicacies. When Beth, Diana and I received them, I quickly ate three candy bars (or if you are British, you can call them biscuits, which makes you feel less guilty about eating so much junk).
The box is nearly gone, and it isn't even Christmas yet. Where do you think it is going? I would blame my family, except I don't think K has eaten any, and I dole out only one per day to the kids. Poor, deprived kids.
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I haven't been blogging, because I really have little to say, but how about this for an ending:

B: Mama! Z and S are saying they are cats, and they aren't!
Me: B, it is ok. You are right. They aren't cats, but they are just pretending.
B: No, they aren't. They are "realing!" I don't like it! I don't want them to be cats.