Andrew asked me if I wanted to just decorate the house without him since we didn’t get to it this weekend like we’d planned.
But I have decorated by myself for Christmas for much too long, and I told him so.
So last night he dutifully helped sort the branches of the tree, untangle the lights, and put up more ornaments than he could have imagined would fit in one cardboard box.
He helped put all kinds of snowmen in the living room and found spots for cinnamon-scented pinecones.
The house is lovely.
But he was so tired. There was a moment where he nearly fell asleep holding the lights.
And he ended up staying up too late working, partly because I conscripted him.
He tells me he’s glad we did it together, that it was a welcome break, a good memory, but I wonder.
What would the harm have been in waiting another week, holding out until Saturday when he was rested and didn’t have to squeeze in deciding where to put stockings between prepping for tomorrow.
I’m not sure. But next year, I hope I’ll be as sensitive to his needs as he was to mine.