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We put up the tree on Sunday night – which is a sign that my husband, who usually tries to put up the Christmas tree sometime in the vicinity of Halloween and has to be forcibly restrained until the sanctioned Day After Thanksgiving, is suffering from a traumatic brain injury. I even asked him on Saturday if he wanted to put up the tree then AND HE SAID NO. I should have rushed him to the ER and demanded to see a neurologist to rule out a tumor. Anyhow, the tree is up now and my husband appears to be back to his normal self. More or less. I’m not entirely convinced that he’s NOT a pod person.

I’d like to note that we have a wee little fake tree after living in apartments with cats for the past three Christmases. It was wee and cute and perfect in our various apartments and now, in this big house, it looks SO SMALL. It’s like the little tree that could. Emphasis on little. It’s hardly bigger than Whuff’s bounce-a-roo, which is next to it.

Since he bounces in the vicinity of said tree, I thought Whuffles would get a kick out of it since it’s SPARKLY! but so far, he thinks it’s banal. He’s not anti-tree so much as apathetic to it. He does enjoy my favorite holiday song  (note: Jethro Tull. I was raised by hippies.) and given the fun that he has “reading” Nuno’s magazines is going to be in baby heaven when he discovers wrapping paper, so there’s hope that he’ll develop the Whuffs-Mas spirit yet!

And here he is, in some recent Whuff-isodes:

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