In an effort to find my inner mistletoe (I am seriously lacking in the Christmas enthusiasm department this year) I made hubby drag down the trees from the attic on the weekend. Yes I said trees. Plural. One for the living room (three-footer, piddly thing so it doesn't count) and one for the dining room (six-footer, a proper one that shall from henceforth be known as the beast).

On Sunday night I assembled the smaller one as a warm-up to the main event. I dressed it in regulation whites, silvers and blues to match the room. With the oversized star firmly instated at the top I admired my handiwork and couldn't wait to see The Boy's face the next day.

He walked in and ignored it. I pointed it out to him. He looked at me like a teenager would.  "What do you want me to say Mummy? It's a tree. Let's face facts, it's a bit pathetic really isn't it?" said The Boy. (Only he didn't because he's 18 months old and single words are the extent of his repertoire at the moment)

I spent the day mildly disappointed with his reaction and pampering the tree to boost its already inferior ego. The Boy spent the day wondering how to get me sectioned as I had clearly lost the plot.

Last night I decided to tackle the beast. I managed it with some help from hubby, I ended up having to send him away; he was doing it all wrong. I decided to go for the minimalist look. Apparently though, just lights and tinsel aren't enough so on went the obligatory natural wood and golden decorations. I left the bottom third of the beast for The Boy to do in the morning, but didn't hold out much hope.

This morning, The Boy sauntered into the dining room and stopped in his tracks. A look of awe and wonder crossed his little face, and a huge beam broke out on mine. This was the desired reaction! We decorated the tree together just as hoped whilst listening to Christmas songs. When I say 'we', I clearly mean he repeatedly put three baubles on one branch and took them off again. But we had fun!

Oh and I found my inner mistletoe!