Poem // The Toddler & the Christmas Tree

You huff and you puff,
To get it in the sodding pot,
Festive jumpers stripped off
As you’re too bloody hot.
You decorate it as a family,
Restraining the inner cries
Of “Nooo, not on that branch!”
Comforting yourself with mince pies.
It’s finally up and looking pretty,
Although you do move around
Some baubles after bedtime –
After the mulled wine has been downed.
But the next morning you forget,
Whilst in the kitchen making food,
That this new thing is a novelty,
And to ignore it would be rude.
Well, that’s what the toddler thinks,
As he beelines for the tree.
His chubby little hands,
Out-stretched with utter glee.
“They bought me a present!” he thinks,
“A beautiful new toy with lights!”
He eyes up the tree,
Imagining scaling its height.
The balls and figures that hang
From this woody new friend,
The branches too:
“Oh, look how they bend!”
Pine needles everywhere,
He’s like a kitten with a toy.
Pushing bauble after bauble,
My little toddler boy.
Climbing on the sofa
To get a closer look,
He sees Rudolph and a star,
A penguin hidden in a nook.
You tell him not to touch
Over and over again.
You wait and you wait,
For his new fascination to wane.
But he keeps going back,
To his new friend the tree.
You see for a toddler,
There’s always something new to see.
“Oh, lo and behold!
There are presents under it!”
And it all goes silent –
I’m suspicious, I’ll admit.
He’s started opening presents;
Surrounded by wrapping and tags,
He’s been routing round underneath
Looking in all the bags.
The tree is also leaning,
Slightly to the right,
He looks at me and smiles,
His eyes shining bright.
I can’t help but laugh,
(That’s all that is left to do)
Returning to the kitchen,
To the dregs of my now-cold brew.
I smile to myself:
He won’t be like this forever,
Soon he’ll be indifferent,
Christmases filled with “whatever”.
So make the most of the mischief,
Enjoy the cheeky boy,
And maybe if you keep trying,
He won’t think the tree is a toy…
Maybe.

Hannah