NOT an elf.
Last Saturday, we headed out into the countryside, driving through the cold rain and knowing we had to make a quick selection. As we pulled down the driveway of the farm, we gazed out the passenger-side windows of the van, already scouting for our perfect tree (no taller than Rob, no rounder than Rob and I can clasp our hands around), and E3, seated in the middle row said in a disappointed voice, "They're all small."
I looked back to see her peering dejectedly out the driver's side window at the field of seedlings.
Trees for the Charlie Brown shoppers.