The Kid herself got it into her skull that we NEEDED to go to the Festival of Trees this year.
Every year, the University Hospital here in the city puts on a fundraiser wherein hundreds of holiday trees are decorated, displayed, and auctioned. We went four of five years ago to take in the heady kick off to the month-long xmas season, to walk around and ponder the effort and the splendour, but while it’s a feast for the eyes and camera lens, the Kid has never had much patience for it.
But apparently kids talk.
“Dad. They have a ‘Kids Only’ store there.” She says. “Only kids can go in and buy presents for their parents.”
“So you want to go?”
Of course, and she reminded us every other day for two weeks about it.
So Friday evening we coordinated a hot pair of precious free hours and we wandered the twinkling hall, taking in the festive gush that slapped us full in the face before it had honestly kicked in that, oh… right, it’s December again already.
I had plenty of time to nab a few minutes of colourful footage while the Kid disappeared into the ‘Kids Only’ store, where she lingered for a solid half hour and (of course) didn’t buy a single thing (“you wouldn’t have wanted anything in there, dad”).
Nothing quite screams “HOLY CRAP IT’S CHRISTMAS AGAIN!” quite like wandering among a couple hundred decorated trees, with five hundred strangers. Either way, it beats the mall.