His name is Chester. The tradition of naming Christmas trees goes back to my days in the Abbey, where I lived before Dave and I got married. I believe that our Abbey Christmas trees were named Timothy and Bartholomew, respectively, the two years that I was there. (One year we had a Thanksgiving turkey named Archibald. My husband has always thought that was taking it a little too far.)
Here in the Wilcox household, we believe in naming our Christmas trees after American presidents. Our first Christmas tree was named Truman. This one is the namesake of Chester A. Arthur, the 21st President of the United States. Here is a close-up of Chester.
And here are some of my favorite ornaments. A regal camel that my dad gave me when I was six:
A stately ballerina from my Uncle Mike:
And another camel, this one of the funny-looking, clothes pin variety, along with a mini-stocking from my sweet great-grandmother:
Meg has done very well so far with not going after our Christmas decorations, though she definitely has moments when she's tempted. Sometimes she stands and stares at the three nutcrackers on the window sill, and you can almost see her thinking, "Okay, to obey, or not to obey?" Here's a shot of their majesties:
Our stockings, hung between living and dining rooms:
And last, but not least, a snowman (with legs!) named Jolly:
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