That Little Old Pine Tree

When Dane was in Second Grade, his class went on a field trip to a tree farm. Each child came home with an evergreen sapling. Dane proudly planted it in the front yard and we've babied it for several years now. During the growing season, Dane will sometimes come into the house twice in one week and beg me to go out and look at it.

"It's so much bigger than the last time you looked, Mom," he'll plead. Inevitably, I go outside, ooh and aah about how big it's gotten, examine the new growth, and stand at a distance while Dane measures himself against it for the millionth time, smiling and nodding.

Last winter, I decided the little evergreen needed some shaping up. If it's going to grow into a beautiful front yard Christmas tree, we need to work on it. While Dane was at school one day, I trimmed it - the higher branches shorter, the lower ones longer, to give it that nice conical shape that's a requirement for all real Christmas trees.

When Dane came home from school, he had a FIT!!! I had trimmed the top back.

"Honey," I tried to explain, "it was gangly. The top needed to be trimmed back so it will fill out. You want a nicely rounded tree, not a tall, skinny one."

The convincing didn't go well. All Dane could see was that his much-beloved heighth had taken a hit. For the next week, I probably caught him in the front yard measuring himself against it at least a dozen times. Finally, after about a month, he admitted to me quietly,

"Mama, my tree really does look better. You were right to trim it. It's growing better now and looks healthier."

I know it must've been a hard statement for him to make, but it was true. The tree was growing much faster, looked cleaner and neater and, in general, seemed much happier since its trimming.

This year, just before the hint of Spring, I took my scissors to the tree yet again. However, this time, I was smart enough to hide the evidence. I got rid of all the pieces I had cut off before Dane got home from school.

He didn't even notice. But he brought up something about his garden and I erroneously thought he was talking about his tree, and made some remark that tipped him off. Shortly thereafter, I saw him looking it over closely.

When he came back into the house, I eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the maelstrom of frustration and comments about how short it was again. None came. Instead, Dane walked into the kitchen and said,

"My pine tree really looks good, Mom. It's beginning to take on a nice shape. I can't wait to see how it likes its trimming this year."

Boy, was I shocked. But my son is accepting the facts of life. We all need shaping and pruning, and are much happier once the job is completed. Yes, we may groan and whine as the shears are cutting and we may mourn that particularly tall spike on the top that was cut back, but the satisfaction of being put back in order quickly overcomes the memories of the pruning.

I think there must be an analogy here somewhere . . .