“It’ll fit,” I said, sizing up the tree out in the field. “It’s the perfect size.”
My wife was the one who’d found it, using her spacial awareness superpowers to sniff out the perfectly sized and shaped tree for our living room. She wasn’t in costume, but her superpowers still worked. Ruby agreed that this could be the one as Edward and I tromped over and quickly agreed. I grabbed my borrowed saw and started cutting.
The tree did not crash down on top me and crush me to death, much to the disappointment of my two children, but it did make a nice cracking sound when it finally fell. We loaded it onto the sled and let Edward haul it off to the parking lot. After all, isn’t this what we have children for in the first place? Manual labor? I believe that is the traditional reason for having kids.
Now, despite the tree being the perfect size for the apartment, my wife informed me that it would definitely not fit in the trunk of our car. What? Nonsense. We have a Mazda 5. We can put the back seats down! There is enough room in there for a whole forest! Silly Tenor Mom. She must have turned her powers off.
Well, okay, technically there was not “room in the trunk,” but why limit yourself to the trunk when you have a whole car to use?! “But the children have to sit somewhere!” my wife mentioned. And they did! Plenty of room for both the kids and the tree in the back seat there, right? Sure, they were not able to buckle themselves in, but I managed to squeeze my arm in there and clip them in. Legal and safe! And there was so much extra room back there that Edward was able to kick his sister the whole ride home! That is roomy comfort right there.
Getting the tree out of the car was slightly more difficult, since the branches were now locked onto the kids’ seats like hooks in a fish mouth, but we solved that eventually as well, by shoving the tree around the corner and out the side door. Once the children were out of the way of course.
Now the tree is up and decorated and it is the exact perfect right size for our living room. My wife was correct, as usual. And I was also correct.
Sort of.
As usual.