Reading: A Child's Christmas in Wales, by Dylan Thomas. A member of one of my mailing lists, fellow "Bookmom" Ginny, was raving about Thomas's use of language in Under Milkwood. I've never read Under Milkwood, but I'm adding it to my To Be Read list based on her recommendation. It did remind me, however, that it was time to re-read A Child's Christmas. This piece just begs to be read aloud. Thomas's writing rings like music.

Watching: Holiday Inn, with Matthew, while Stephen and Daniel were out with their grandmother and Aunt Lorraine. I love this rather hokey Christmas movie as well as its companion piece, the other Bing Crosby Christmas flick, White Christmas.

O Tannenbaum

We took the boys to meet Santa Claus today. For the past few years, we've gone to see Santa at Kale's Nursery, a garden store and Christmas shop near Princeton. The Kale's Santa sits on a red velvet chair in a lovely, decorated room. We almost never have to wait to see him. It's a lot nicer than standing in line at the mall next to the styrofoam snow and plastic reindeer, surrounded by cranky kids.

This morning I asked Stephen, "So, Reno, what are you going to ask Santa for?"

"Cars and trucks," was his prompt answer.

"That's nice. What else?"

He thought for a moment. "Hmm...more cars and trucks!"

Last year, Matthew wouldn't go near Santa. He clung to my neck like a frightened baby monkey. This year he astonished us all by walking right up to Santa Claus and sitting on his lap without being prompted. What a difference one year can make!

All three boys asked Santa for Hotwheels cars, and Daniel asked for Pokémon cards, naturally. "Pokémon, huh?" Santa responded, winking at us. "Do you know you're the first kid to ask for Pokémon?"

After our visit with Santa we went to the tree farm to get our Christmas tree. Tab discovered this cut-your-own-tree farm last year. Located in Lawrenceville, not far from Princeton, it's a deceptively large spread with a wide variety of firs, spruces, and pines to choose from. You tell one of the workers which kind of tree you want, then you hop into the hay wagon and the driver takes you to the section of the farm with that variety of tree. You look around, find the tree of your holiday dreams, cut it down with the saw they give you, and then wait for the hay wagon to take you and your tree back to your car. Last year the boys loved finding the tree and the hayride. It certainly beats having to drag the tree back through the woods.

In past years we have always had a white pine for our Christmas tree. They are very full trees, with long, soft needles. They also tend to be a little less expensive than the more popular varieties. This year, however, we overheard another customer talking about the concolor fir, which has needles that smell like oranges. Tab remembered one of his co-workers loves concolor firs, too, so we decided to hop off at that part of the farm and see them for ourselves.

The needles do indeed smell like oranges when they are lightly crushed. It's extraordinary. Both Tab and I were bewitched by the scent. We decided to try a concolor fir this year for a change to see how we like it. Only after we cut it down did we start to think about how the tree will smell when it is inside a warm house. Let's hope the scent isn't overwhelming!

I took pictures of Tab lying on the ground to cut down the tree, with the boys squatting nearby to watch. Then he dragged the tree out to the haywagon road, the boys scampering behind him. I watched the four of them threading their way through the trees, their cheerful red and blue jackets in bright contrast to the dark green of the firs, a cloudless blue sky arching overhead...and my heart swelled with happiness and with love for them all.

It seemed to me then that this was one of those moments I'll remember for the rest of my life.

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