this year my oldest kid came to me and said: “i think we should get a christmas tree that no one else would want.”

there are moments in parenting when i see myself in my kids so vividly that it feels like an electric shock. it has been happening more frequently as they grow and develop their own identities. they are drawn to things i was drawn to when i was little, they speak words i’ve said. they encounter weird health problems that i’ve experienced. they reach for the same foods that i would. i find myself full of self doubt in these moments, chalking it all up to my own projections. seeing what i want to see, or seeing what i fear. i tell myself i can’t be a good parent if i’m inserting myself in their narrative and try to detach.

“because it deserves love, too. and it might not get love if we don’t take it.”

his words have completely disarmed me at this point. my inner monologue has left me standing there, speechless, for a noticeably long time. i’ve had these feelings and spoken these phrases. i used to insist on getting the dented product at the grocery store, or the toy that was slightly scuffed, or the clothes with a minor defect. i, too, loved the sad charlie brown christmas trees. i remember meeting another kid who did the same things and our bond was instant. it was like we saw a world that no one else did. 

in adulthood, this was pathologized as me not feeling loved enough so i would try to love everything in response. when my kid’s words entered the space between us, my first thought was “fuck, i’ve made him feel unloved”. 

but then i challenged this line that i had been taught. did pathologizing this mindset ever help me? or did it just make me feel faulty? before i learned the therapy-speak for it, i attributed it to something much different. i saw it as an extension of my animism. when i was a kid, my world was vividly alive and it hurt that no other adults took that belief seriously. they called it cute, sweet, said i must be a good caretaker if i was always looking for something to love. but inside, i was mad – i was mad that no one else saw what i did. it was frustrating to search for words with a limited vocabulary to explain a worldview that had been disregarded as “primitive” or “unintellectual”. 

i didn’t have the power to say, “no you idiots, it’s not cute, it’s upsetting that our culture makes so much unnecessary stuff from parts of the earth that were once alive and then disregards them for being imperfect.” or “i don’t understand why our culture is so fixated on perfection and i want nothing to do with that.” or “there is beauty in everything and i’m mad that you are infantilizing me over this.”

none of my feelings were a problem. in hindsight, i loved that my empathy was overflowing. it didn’t cause me distress. it added a layer to my life that, once i embraced, has been nothing but fruitful and full of meaning. 

i stood a little taller while my kid waited for a response. i studied his face and his body language. he was confident, self assured, and clearly on a mission. i told him we could totally do that and suggested he be the one to pick the tree this year. i’d love whatever he picked. 

he came home with a skinny tree full of bare spots. he pointed out how the needles were growing along the trunk, making it look hairy and weird. he danced around it as it went up, proudly showing me every imperfection he could find. he leaned over and kissed its branches. he was beaming. 

i told him i loved his ugly tree. he looked at me and cocked his head to the side. “ugly?” he said, as if that idea never entered his mind. i instantly regretted using that word and tried to triage the situation. “yes, most people would call this tree ugly and pass it by. but we see the beauty in it.” he nodded enthusiastically and kissed it again. we made decorations for it out of cranberries, orange peels, nuts, and cinnamon. we adorned it with bubble lights. my kids made the yearly lego holiday train to run in a circle below it. 

i don’t know what this moment was about for him. i don’t know if i am not loving him enough, or if he’s tending to the animist worldview that kids naturally lean towards, or if it’s some other thing we haven’t identified yet. maybe a combination of all the above. i don’t know if it matters, though. i think all i can do is support him while he follows his heart and figures out what it means for himself.