THE PEANUT GALLERY: If a Tree Falls in the House

Some unexpected traffic on the bus ride home meant I would be a little later than normal. So I texted My Director with some basic instructions on how to get dinner started. This way, I could get a jump start on cooking as soon as I got home:

"Can you put some water on for brown rice and heat the oven to 350 please?"

I was planning to make pan-seared tilapia over brown rice with baked Brussels sprouts and bacon. Yum. Her response was quick, and unexpected:

"Our tree fell over. Have to deal with that right now."

I have to admit, I laughed a little when I read that. Have to deal with that right now? Ya think? A classic line from my straight man. When I got off the bus, a stunned Peanut met me at the corner. "Daddy, you're NOT going to believe this." She escorted me inside. My little girl was beside herself. But not because of this:

Yes. That's My Director working on the tree
while I snap pictures for the blog. Priorities.

Peanut was bordering on manic because of this:

The Elf was IN the tree. Drama.

Luna cowered in fear on the couch as we surveyed the damage. The poor dog. The tree crashing to the ground while we weren't home is probably the puppy-fright-factor equivalent of an indoor thunderstorm. As if the tree wasn't bad enough, the stupid Elf on the Shelf was sitting in it at the time. And of course, Peanut knew it:

"I'm really worried about Googily. What if we pick him up and he loses his magic?"

Imagine you come home from work and your living room is an active crime scene. You immediately become Gil Grissom:

He's a bright guy.

I stripped off my jacket and shoulder bag, and cleared the area. "Everyone remain calm," I announced. The tree would be uprighted and re-rooted with no problem. (Unfortunately, this isn't the first time this has happened to us.) Our priority was keeping Googily's magic alive. Human hands can't touch this sacred Elf.

"No one panic. Peanut, get me the tongs I use for grilling."

But she had her doubts.

"What if his magic transfers to the tongs and THEY fly back to Santa? Then you'll need new ones."

Seriously? No one questions Gil Grissom. How the hell do I respond to THAT? (While I try to conjure up an adequate response, let's pause a moment to soak up Peanut's cuteness here. She is totally sold on the whole Santa thing and I love it. The Elf too, obviously. Ah, the wonder and innocence of childhood. Some might argue we're perpetuating a huge lie. But that's a topic for another blog post.)

Enter My Director, who didn't question my idea. She immediately put the tongs plan into motion:

Every little thing she does is magic.
(Ya see what I did there?)

The tongs plan worked... kind of. It's difficult to effectively move your Elf with grill accessories under the glaring and disapproving eye of your five year-old. Still, My Director, who never uses these utensils to cook, mind you, did not buckle under the pressure:

Perfect placement.

Googily is now safely tucked away on the breakfront in the dining room. (Really? Did I just write "breakfront?" I don't even know what that is.) We finally turned our attention to the seven-foot Balsam laying on our living room rug. As we righted this once-mighty oak, I thought I'd have a little fun with Peanut:

"If we don't get this tree back up, we might just have to cancel Christmas."

Without skipping a beat, she fired back:

"Then I guess we'll just have to do Hannukah."

What makes that line even more hilarious is Peanut's top request from Santa this year: An American Girl doll. (Yes, we've entered THAT realm.) But she wants a specific one. Not the one that looks like her or My Director. No. She wants Rebecca Rubin:

Rebecca is Jewish. We, in case the giant fallen Christmas tree wasn't enough of a giveaway, are not. Oy vey.

As for Googily, he's still as magical as ever. He even managed to fly back and forth from the North Pole with his new accessory:

Somehow I will cook dinner tonight
without some crucial knives.

Happy Hannukah from the DKL family.

A fallen tree is much worse than what happened to our tree last year, as I wrote here.