I was the only member of Casa de Shoes on the Wrong Feet that wore long pants and a sweater as we walked around our local nursery searching for the perfect Christmas tree. It was sunny and in the high sixties.
Hot chocolate was consumed, cookies were nibbled, a tree was decided upon and loaded up on the top of our car. Carter even talked to Santa and Mrs. Claus, telling them he really wanted his mamma’s banana bread and a semi-automatic Nerf gun for Christmas. (He will get one of these two; can you guess which one?)