Treesie Weesie Mo-sam-beesi

Our little Christmas tree died this winter.

It broke my heart. He was an amazing one legged friend and part of our family.

His story began back in December of 2008.

JUR was 6 years old and Hansolo was 2. The DVD of Wall-e came with a certificate to mail off for a free tree. I thought it would be fun to go plant a tree with my son, so I mailed it off.

in a few weeks a cardboard tube showed up with a little soul that make Charlie Brown's Christmas tree look like a magnificent specimen. This little one legged had a malformed forked trunk and looked 1/2 dead.

Now, I am a serial plant killer, I just lack the ability to grown things. Even my cactus's used to die. I'm so bad I can kill silk plants and plastic plants.

I placed this little messed up tree in the dish drainer with the silverware and gave it a drink. I figured that weekend we would plant it if it was still alive.

The next day as I was doing dishes I heard a little voice.

"I want to live here." it said.

I looked at the tree out of the corner of my eye. "Are you crazy! I am a plant killer."

"I don't care, I am choosing to live here." It said.

"Okay, but I warned you."

I called my son into the kitchen. "JUR," I said, pointing to the tree, "This tree has told me where it wants to live. It is choosing to live here with us."

My son jumped up and down and high fived the tree's little branches.

Off to the store for a pot and soil we went. My son enjoyed playing in the dirt, as we planted the tree.

(Photo disclaimer: #1 this is the only baby picture of Christmas tree I could find. #2 that is a friends baby. #3 my floor are never that clean....they would be dirty except I was regularly baby sitting said baby and he would get the broom and sweep up every day LOL)

"Now we need to name it." I said, but already this little ones name was in my heart.

"Let call it Christmas Tree!" smiled my son.

"I think it wants to be named, Treesie Weesie Mo-sam-beesi." I said stroking its little needles.

And that is how our tree came to be called Christmas Tree Treesie Weesie Mo-sam-beesi Russell

Its name longer then it was.

JUR loved to water it. He used to play cars in its dirt while telling it stories. He fed it cheerios and also put cheerios on its needles, because "Mama, it has to get use to being decorated! Its a Christmas tree!"

Suprizingly it was still alive next Christmas and that was when we discovered what sex it was.

JUR came running up to me. "Christmas tree is a BOY!"

"How do you know that?" I asked following him back to the tree.

"Cause he's got balls!!"

 

That he does. That he does.

 

 

That sweet thing would grow out every spring about 2 inches. His needles would get super SUPER SOFT and we would all pet him. If felt like an animals fur it was so soft.

So soft. Then without warning they would harden into super SUPER SHARP needles, and as you went to pet him, he would stab you and leave you bleeding. What a funny little tree, somewhere in his linage there must have been a branch with cactus's in it.

When Christmas tree was about two year's old we learned something else about him.

He was a killer.

We would find bugs skewered on his sharp needles. My favorite murder was a fly that was impaled right between the eyes. Just hanging there like it was flying.  I slept better knowing our killer tree was on guard outside the front door.

The kids frequently put stuff in his branches. It was common place to find Christmas tree infested with army men or jewelry.

Then in the fall of 2013, I noticed some of his needles were turning brown. He fought hard but by November he had died.

Death didn't stop his murderous ways....

Like I said, he was a funny tree.

It broke my heart when my daughter noticed he was dead.

"Mama!!" she called as she stood over his bucket. "What's wrong with Christmas tree?"

I sat down next to him and her. "He died."

Her face turned upside down and her eyes filled up with tears. "Oh tree" she wailed and went to hug him.

He poked her arms.

What a stinker.

We left him on the front porch. I wasn't going to do anything with our little tree until spring came and he didn't bud out. I half expected to see those soft-soft needles appear like usual.

But as March came and went, and there was no signs. I finalized his death certificate and prepared the children for his funeral.

Sent my daughter off crying again. She wasn't ready to part with his corpse yet.

Finally it was time. We decorated him with tinsel and took our last pictures of him.

"Oh thank you little tree for hanging with us and being part of our lives." I said as the neighbors joined us.

Then we lite him on fire and howled like Klingons warriors screaming him into Stovokor.

The tinsel went WHOOSH, the kids went  AROOOOOOO RRRAAAAHHHH EEEEEEEEE!!

And when the smoke cleared. There was Christmas tree.

Oh what a funny, funny nonflammable zombie tree we are blessed with.

Okay my little one legged friend, you can hang around for a few more days, I thought as I patted his head.

As we slide his bucket back on the porch he proceeded to scratch me and JUR on the arms. Guess he didn't want a Klingon/Viking funeral.

Next trash day I said my quiet goodbyes and pulled him up and put him in the can.

Daughter came home from school that day and came screaming into the house, "WHERE IS CHRISTMAS TREE!!"

I held her as she cried.

"He is probably poking the heck out of some poor garbage man as we speak."

Cause that is just the kind of tree he was.

(Next: the beginning story of our new tree.)