How smelly are your branches…
As the school year inched closer to Christmas, I realized that Son should probably give his teacher a gift. She has really taught him a lot, and he really likes her. So I asked Son what he would like to give her for Christmas. True to form, he answered with something a bit off. First, he said, “a flower!” That seemed sweet enough, but before I could even comment on his suggestion, he changed his mind. “No, I’ll give her a tree!”
Me: A tree? Really?
Son: Yes, a tree. A tiny one.
Me: Ok, I think we can do that!
I remembered I had once seen a local store selling small rosemary trees around this time of year, and I figured they might still, so I sent Husband to check it out — he works closer to the store. Unfortunately, they only had spruces, or something piney; no rosemary. With only one day left to find a gift, I had resigned myself to giving her some stamps, or something else teacherly, if I couldn’t find the tree at one last store. I walked up to my local Home Depot, and there she was, the tree, not the teacher. I plopped down 12 buckaroos, and stashed her in my car. Then I went crazy.
I bought a small glass angel, and a jingle bell garland from the dollar store.
In the end, the tree looked pretty good, and Son was so excited to give it to her.
Unfortunately, I forgot to photograph the gift with a real camera. Call me lost in excitement.
One teacher mouthed to me, as I dropped Son off at school, “That’s Awesome!” And Son’s Teacher wrote a nice thank you note. When I asked Son what she said when he gave it to her, he said…
“She said thank you, and I told her it was a stinky tree, and that it needed a bath.”
Of course, you did, Son. Of course you did.