And All Through The House

When I got up this morning and walked into the living room, the boys weren’t there to greet me. Instead, Seamus’s collar was sitting in the middle of the floor. Two Christmas balls and a glittery ornament were under the kitchen table. The Christmas tree skirt was in a little heap by the front door. And the TV was on.

I’m not sure what went on while Monty and I were sleeping, but the remnants of whatever happened didn’t surprise me. Every morning for the last few days, I’ve woken up to a similar scene—sometimes with more wreckage, sometimes with less. It started the day we put up our Christmas tree.

Monty and I haven’t had a Christmas tree since we’ve had the three boys. We have a small ceramic tree, and every year Carrick steals the lights out of it despite Monty’s best efforts to keep them in with superglue. We have other Christmas decorations—and all three of our boys aid and abet in their destruction. Seamus knocks things down. Carrick steals them. And Mackin tears them apart. They’re like a three-cat wrecking crew. Which is exactly why we haven’t had a tree. But this year—this year we decided we needed some extra cheer. So we bought a Christmas tree. And. . . . well, I’ll let the boys tell you about the afternoon when it came.

Carrick: ‘Twas three weeks before Christmas when we heard a loud knock.

Mackin: My dad opened the door and there was a huge box!

Seamus: I said, “Good lord, man! Don’t stand there and stare!
Bring it inside and let me see if I care.”

Mackin: My dad brought the box in right through the front door—

Carrick: And he put it in the middle of the living room floor!

Mackin: It was the biggest box that I’ve ever seen.

Carrick: But the box wasn’t even the very best thing!
Mommy said, “Boys, come look! We have a surprise.”
And when she opened the box, there was a whole tree inside!
I would not have guessed that God made trees like that—
in pieces that build into one big tall stack!

Seamus: Yes! It was quite a surprise, finding that out.
I did not realize that was how trees came about.
I think God’s design is quite clever, really;
I look outside and I wonder–who does all that assembly?

Carrick: Our tree is way better than those trees outside—
it doesn’t have birds, but it has colored lights!

Seamus: Yes, I thought it was lovely, once Dad got it to stand,
but then Mom hung gaudy baubles on every single branch.

Carrick: That’s the best part—all the shiny things!
Golden balls! Glittery paper! And long silver strings!

Seamus: Yes—it had become quite a ghastly creation
when Mom asked the three of us, without provocation,
“What do you think? You’ve looked up, down, and through it.”
I said, “I’ll knock it over.”

Carrick: I’ll rob it.

Mackin: I’ll chew it.

Carrick: Daddy said, “Wrong. You will not touch this tree.”
Mommy laughed and said, “Really? Yeah. Okay. We’ll see.”

Seamus: And we didn’t touch it—not that afternoon.
We met early the next morning when it was most opportune.
We looked and we listened before we went near the tree,
making sure Mom and Dad were in bed, fast asleep.
I said, “Now that we’re here, we must have a talk.”

Carrick: Yes, we need a plan. Who goes first and who stops?

Seamus: We have to decide just how far we can push it.

Carrick: Until Daddy cracks up or Santa cancels his visit.

Mackin: I don’t want Santa to visit this year!
Seamus told me what Santa will do while he’s here:
He’ll come down the chimney with a giant red sack,
steal our souls and TVs, and then run out the back!

Carrick: That isn’t true, Mackin! Seamus—you tell him!

Seamus: Good lord, I’m right here. There’s no need for yelling.
Shouldn’t you worry about your own tiny self?
There must be a shelf somewhere missing its elf!

Carrick: Yeah? Come at me, bro! I’m next to the tree!
Oh, that’s right. You can’t fit. You’re so much BIGGER than me.

Seamus: You should ask Santa for platform shoes—
that way when you’re talking, I can actually see you!

Mackin: Oh dear. This is awful. I need my dad right away.

Carrick: No, wait! Seamus, don’t you have something to say?

Seamus: FINE. Santa’s actually quite a lovely old fellow.
He brought you that toy that used to be yellow.

Mackin: The toy that I carry around every night?
The one that I sleep with and hold really tight?

Seamus: Yes, that’s the one, the raggedy old thing.
You don’t need to be scared; I was just joking.
Now back to the important matter at hand—
I’d like to propose something if you’ll give me a chance:
we each do one naughty thing every night,
to the tree or decorations or whatever we like.

Carrick: Yes! If each of us does one, we can’t tell on each other.
And just three naughty things won’t get us in trouble!

Seamus: Quite right, little one! You’re learning from me.
Now are we in agreement with how to proceed?

Carrick: Oh, I am IN! This plan is pure genius.

Seamus: I know. I thought of it. Mackin, are you with us?

Mackin: Will I get in trouble with Santa or Dad?

Carrick: No! Maybe with Mommy, but that won’t be bad!

Mackin: Okay. I will do it. I want to chew on that tree.

Carrick: And I want to play with its shiny finery!

Seamus: I shall knock it around, leaving no corner unturned.
Off with you now; this meeting’s adjourned.
Mom will be up any minute; we can’t raise suspicion.
Carrick, you run. I’ll chase you through the kitchen.

Carrick: I got you, bro! I’ll see you downstairs!
Mackin, come with us! Daddy won’t care!

Seamus: I heard Carrick exclaim, as he ran out of sight,
“I love Christmas so much! I can’t wait ‘til tonight!”