Page 7 of Merrily Yours
“Are you kidding me? That thing is like four feet tall. We can’t use it as our main tree. This one is quirky, sure, but at least we can’t have a conversation over the top of it,” Jules argues.
“I agree with Jules, the taller tree is the clear winner,” Anders chimes in.
“Et tu brute?” Gabe eyes his best friend, shock written across his face.
“Let’s get both. They could look nice next to each other! Like our own little tree farm,” Ben suggests.
“I like where your head is, Ben,” I encourage, clapping my hands together. “Both it is.”
We have already loaded the car down with all manner of outdoor decorations, from lights to blow up displays to fake reindeer, so I’m not quite sure how both of these trees are getting home, but we’ll figure it out.
I pay the nice high school kid running the register, and we carry both trees to the car. The tree lot is only about a mile from our house, so the boys get to tying them down as best as possible, and then Anders and Gabe hang out either side of the back seat, arms holding them in place. When we get home, I honk several times laughing as Elaine, Bex, and Elodie scurry onto the porch.
“What in theChristmas Vacationis happening here?” Bex yells across the yard.
“We couldn’t decide on a tree!” Anders answers his wife.
“So you bought two? Is one of them for Elodie?” She tilts her head. “It looks so small.”
Simultaneously, we all look at Gabe who has his eyes narrowed at Anders. “Did you tell her to say that?” he accuses.
“When would I have been able to tell her that? I’ve been with you the whole time!”
“I haven’t been able to trust your loyalty ever since you picked her over me,” Gabe complains.
“Dude,” Anders whispers. “You know you’re always my number one Bardot man. But have you seen your sister’s ass?”
“None of us needed to hear that,” Jules replies, matter of factly.
Anders just shrugs, hopping out of the car and running to greet Bex. “How are my babies?”
“Get your head in the game, killer! If you want to be Santa, you can’t let your hot wife distract you,” she replies.
“You’re right,” he nods. “It’s just…” He leans down to kiss the top of her head. “The belly really does it for me.”
It’s all hands on deck as we unload the new items and get other decorations down from the attic. Everything is laid out on the front lawn, making it look like a Christmas garage sale is about to take place. We haven’t had a big snow yet, and the sun is shining just enough today that it’s comfortable for the girls to sit and watch the chaos for a while. They make their way across the lawn and settle into three camp chairs—we bought a kid size one for Elodie—with large mugs of hot chocolate and multiple blankets to keep them warm.
Before Bex sits down, she cups her hand around her mouth and shouts, “Let the games begin!”
Anders and Jules head toward the left side of the house while Gabe and Ben focus on the right side. It takes some time, but eventually we start to see their visions come to life. I bounce back and forth between teams, naming myself Switzerland for the sake of keeping things fair.
“Dad! Can you find a plug for this blowup?” Gabe calls across the lawn. He has now blown up seven different figures ranging from a Santa that pops out of a chimney to a family of elves that flap around like those long inflatables on used car lots. The one he needs help with appears to be a Yeti. He and Ben are definitely going for quantity over quality.
On the opposite side of the yard, Anders and Jules are stringing sparkling snowflakes from the large tree. It goes surprisingly well with the large ornament garland they spent about an hour making.
Bex, ever the supportive spouse, is heckling Gabe and Ben between sips of hot chocolate. I walk over to join her after finding yet another extension cord for Gabe to use.
“Maybe cool it on the taunting,” I suggest.
“Have you met Gabe? He taunts people in his sleep—he can handle a few good natured comments,” she replies.
“Since when is ‘Your decorations have little dick energy’ a good natured comment, my cabbage?” Elaine asks, earning narrowed eyes from Bex.
She ponders her answer for a moment before relenting. “Fine, maybe that one wasn’t exactly good natured.” Just then a shiver wracks through her. “Alright, my hot cocoa is cold and there’s no alcohol in it to warm me up, so I’m headed inside. Come on, El.” She looks toward Anders. “Kick ass, killer!” she adds before packing up her things, taking Elodie’s hand, and making her way into the house.
“Think we can be done in an hour, boys?” I ask. A chorus of yeses echo out, and I pull out my phone to set the timer.
“Five, four, three, two, and one—time!”
