On Friday night we got home past the kid's bedtimes after a family redneck outing (free fast food dinner and a trip to WalMart).
Anabelle fell right asleep, but Tyson and I spent extra time lingering in bed with Dawson for a snuggle after our usual bedtime ritual of jammies and prayers.
He was just about asleep in our arms when suddenly his eyes FLEW open and he hypnotically asks me
"Mom, when are we getting our Christmas tree?"
I answered that Christmas is after Thanksgiving, which is after his birthday next week, and we will go pick out our tree soon after Thanksgiving is over.
"After we choose our tree, how do we chop it down?"
Immediately I realized he was picturing the live Christmas tree lot down the street filled several rolling acres of all different varieties of Charlie Brown evergreen trees ranging from saplings to full grown sequoias growing straight out of the ground. I think he's mentioned it maybe one time in the years we've driven past it, but he had it tucked away in his memory and knew its exact purpose.
I answered that when the time comes to pick out our tree, the man who works at the lot will let us use a saw to cut down the tree.
"How big is the saw, Mom? Is it... this big?"
(holds up hands a short distance apart)
"No, its bigger than that. More like this big."
(pull his hands further apart)
"Mom, is it dangerous to use the saw and cut down the tree?"
"Oh, yes. Very, very dangerous."
Chuckling turns to giggles.
"Mom, when its time, do you think I can help cut down the tree?"
"Mmmmm, I think that would be ok...."
Aaaand, that does it.
Immediately the giggles turn to hysterical, rolling, raging, uncontrolable laughter.
Tyson and I had to leave the room, he could not for the life of him pull it back together to get to sleep.
I think someone is getting excited for the most wonderful time of the year.
That, or his evil plan is finally falling into place...