The elves helped

Grandkids are great for filling a house with lights

This weekend, the 10-year old grandtwins came over and I put them to work. We’d already cut the tree, and I put it in the stand and loaded it with lights, so all that was left were the ornaments.

This is my favorite part of decorating for Christmas, and for years, I’d try to lure the sons with snacks and Christmas music so that we could bask in a revel of…well, it didn’t matter, because no one was much invested in decking the halls, except for me. I figured out a few years ago that though this is an important ritual for me, it doesn’t matter to any one else in my house. Year after year, I decorate the tree alone, or I decorate the tree with one or two spectators who were not allowed comment unless they helped.

No more. Now the grandkids are anxious to hear the stories behind every ornament, especially the ones made by their father. The red construction paper snowflakes are faded to pink, but I could never part with them and the children love hearing about their daddy as a little boy.

This year, I decided to spice up the stories attached to the ornaments. The sparkly Eiffel Tower ornament was given to me while I was spying for the Italian government one year. The naked cherubs are part of an ancient set normally found in museums, but I acquired some for myself through mostly legal means. The red bulbs are rubies, and the wheat weavings (which I bought in Kansas) contain a curse I’m not allowed to talk about.

By the time we finished decorating the back of the tree, they were coming up with stories of their own, and that’s the whole point of the ritual, anyway.

The house is ready now. The lights are up, even the ones on the little pine tree I planted out in the corner of the backyard. You can see that tree from our town green, which will be alight with a half-million bulbs some time this week. Come see the lights, and then look up past the tavern to the one blazingly colorful tree. That’s us.

There’s a lot going on in my family this year, and not all of it is pleasant. But our house is warm, there’s a cake in the oven, and I have 10-year old twins competing with me for the biggest fibs you can tell about Christmas ornaments. Come time for it, we will gather, rag-tag band that we are, around a tree created by grandchildren, The presents will be beside the point. I kind of think Santa already came.