I remember being single and actually having a choice as to whether or not I would put up a tree for the holidays. As with most things in life, marriage and kids changed all of that.

The Christmas tree hunt this year took an interesting twist when my blushing bride announced that our “e-mail-order, TV shopping network Christmas tree” was on the way. “Our what...,” I asked, realizing before the words came out that I didn’t really want to know the answer. “They’re fresh cut, shipped practically overnight, yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda…” The power-down in my head occurred almost instantly. “OK, whatever,” I said, knowing that my objections would be dismissed as the ramblings of a subordinate with no particular consequence.

While this little dance with my sainted wife has been going on for nearly 20 years, the X-factor involved here has emerged as the true driving force in this—and all aspects of our lives—the precocious, opinionated, wholly domineering 5-year-old child who runs my house. She wasn’t waiting for a tree to be delivered. She had a schedule of her own, and the tree was late. Too Damned Late.

So Mamma called the TV shopping Satan to cancel the tree and off we went to seek our immediate tree gratification. After what seemed like several hours of tree testing, wreath wrangling, poinsettia picking and overspending on stuff that was either dead or dying, we could now begin the real work—decorating! My job here is simple. String up the lights, do the heavy lifting and keep my opinions to myself.

What makes my end of the operation really fun is the clash of the decorating Titans—the mother and the daughter. Why is this fun? Because when they disagree (which is always), I am the swing vote.

I wield my power judiciously because I do not benefit from either of them feeling angry or slighted. Mom knows better than to rub my nose in—um, shtuff, because that will surely swing my vote to the kinder-gardener. For her part, the kid is having the time of her life bossing me around; and I would be lying if I said I minded.

So around 7 o’clock that night, with the decorating done, Christmas brick-a-brack arranged, the lights and garland up and lit, the stockings all hung by what will have to pass for a chimney with care, all surrounding a beautifully ornamented tree, there came a knock on the door. And there stood the man in brown, with a 7-foot-tall, one-foot square box, marked “Fresh Tree” on the side.
Sometimes I miss being single.

Rich Hancock is Executive Producer/Co-Host of The Rational Radio Report, weekdays 6-9am on AM 1360 “The Talk You’ve Been Missing” e-mail rich@rationalradio.org