One year for gifts I made all the extended family members a set of painted
Christmas balls. It was easy really. I used plain glass balls and acrylic
paints. Pop off the little metal doo dad on the top of the ball and squeeze
in two different colors of paint. Red and white looked really nice. Put your
finger over the hole, and swish the ball around to coat the inside with
paint. It looks like marble. Once they are dry tie a ribbon around the hook
holding loop and your done. This was a fantastic thing for us that year. The
boys were small (3 and 4) and extra cash was hiding. We had a little olive
tree that year, not quite 3 foot tall. I had decorated it and it was sitting
on top of a coffee table pushed into the corner. I had a few ornaments left
over and decided to make some for myself :-) Those red and white balls
looked really nice on there, I was pleased. So were the boys!

I went into the bathroom to answer the call of nature. Now, you do know
that if anything is going to happen it happens when you're in the bathroom.
I am convinced that is a cosmic law somewhere. Just as I sat down there was
a crashing noise. Never good. Then Stevie starts to scream bloody murder. I
am scrambling to pull myself together. Johnny is beating on the bathroom
door yelling "MOMMA! Tree done ATE Stevie!! Tree done ATE Stevie!!"

Sure enough, I get into the living room and there is the tree tipped over
into the middle of the floor. All I could see of Stevie were his feet and
hands, kicking and flapping out either side! One of the ornaments I had made
hadn't dried all the way and had dribbled red paint onto Stevie's hand.
Stevie had started to calm down once I made it into the room. I grab the
tree and start to lift it off of him. Johnny points to Stevie's hand and
says "See! BLOOD!! I Told you the tree was EATING him!" Well that undid poor
Stevie. Self preservation mode kicked in and he threw up :-( all over the
Christmas tree.

Half an hour later the boys are calmed down, cleaned up, and watching out
the window. I am in the front yard with the Christmas tree, fully decorated,
spraying it off with bleach and the garden hose. Jon pulls into the drive
way. Get's out of the car and walks over, pauses, then continues on into the
house. As he passes by me he says, " I am afraid to even imagine why the
Tree needs a bath."