Early this Saturday morning I got a glimpse of my four-year old as a teenager. I did not enjoy the foreshadowing. She cried "life is so unfair" (winter jackets in December - the horror!) and covered her face every time I verbally threw a threat her way. "You are the meanest person I ever did know." Defeated I drove in silence waiting for some divine intervention to help me survive another day of motherhood.

First came a boy, second came a girl, third came a wild banshee.

And there you were, standing next to an over sized feline wearing a Santa hat, ringing your bell on Main Street advertising a tree sale.

We were your ideal customers who not only needed a Christmas tree but who also desperately needed some magic to cure the massive meltdown of a tantrum.

Naughty preschooler from a tree-less home.

I'm so sorry about your beard. We all know it's real now - the preschooler has watched way too many Christmas movies on the Hallmark TV channel to know how to weed out the fake Santas.

Signed,

Proud owner of a new over-priced Christmas tree, mother of a precocious preschooler now on her best behavior and happy Mama singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of Year".