Until the past week, The Wog thought all trees were apple trees. We have an apple tree just outside our kitchen window, and he Wog's highchair directly faces it from the kitchen table. The Wog loves talking about her apple tree while she dines. (Apple trees and applesauce are two of her favorite conversation pieces.)
Here is The Wog's early-winter view (you can still make out some apples):
And a close-up:
But on recent trips to the grocery store, doctor's office, and post office, The Wog has become aware of a different and equally exciting type of tree: the Christmas Tree (or "Nis-Mis Tree," as she calls them). We went over the weekend to get The Wog her very own Christmas Tree. I'm embarrassed to admit that although it's her third Christmas, it's her first tree; for the past two years we have moved during the holiday season, so trees weren't exactly the priority. But this year, we are all about our Nis-Mis Tree.
Here is The Wog en route to getting the tree. She is a Stay-Puff Marshmellow Wog in her winter coat. I didn't even know if the carseat would buckle. She is enjoying an apple cider donut which we got at our first stop on the Great Christmas Tree Hunt of 2006....a quest which, eventually, took us across state lines.
And here we are at last at the site of our Christmas Tree find. It was very cold, and The Wog and her father are practicing matching scowls. Nis-Mis Tree hunting is clearly a serious business.
Mostly, The Wog wondered around, more interested in the snow (she kept exclaiming, "It's snowing!" even though it wasn't) than in the Nis-Mis Trees.
After we found it, The Wog stood guard while her father went to find help. We love fat trees, and this was the fattest!
Our fatty got carried away and squeezed into a girdling contraption:
The Nis-Mis Tree is now up and lit but not yet decorated. More pictures to follow. And Merry (Early) Nis-Mis!