320. Christmas is over

 We finally got the Christmas tree out of the house. There was a huge debate. The tree was a potted one. 

'We should plant it in the garden.'

'Too small.'

'What? The tree? It'll grow.'

'No! The garden.'

I'm getting exasperated here. All I want is that tree out of my house!

Baby seems to be on Team Mummy.

'We are always the last ones to get a tree and the last ones to get rid of it.'

And then she adds.

'I don't like Christmas anyway. A lot of pointless activity.'

'Except the presents.'

She has to nod here. She got a good present this year.

'We can plant it in the garden. It'll grow a bot and next year we uproot it and we get a bigger tree for free.' 

I give Miss Organiser the mummy death stare.

'Look. Get this tree in the tree dumping area with the pot. I'll happily give the black plastic pot away. Then some people might want to ... adopt it!'

Baby grabs the tree. I grab the pot. We yank it out and then I shove it in the corridor. I sit on the sofa and watch with satisfaction as a tree moves past the windows in the pouring rain all the way to the tree dump.

Tomorrow when we walk the dog I'll try to remember to check if someone has rescued the live tree.