First, we flew to New Jersey, where we celebrated with one daughter –

Before we moved her to New Mexico, by car.  Six days, three adults, one cat in a Toyota.

1.  Hand over the debit card, explaining that you never like to pay over $40 for a Christmas tree, but that the type, shape, and height don’t matter.

2.  Agree that eggnog lattes could also be purchased on said card.

3.  Leave for your other commitment without a backward glance.

4.  Return from other commitment to discover daughters dressed in matching plaid-flannel shirts, skinny jeans and boots.  They are posing in front of the Christmas-red truck, wherein rests a Really Big Tree.

5.  Realize, vaguely, that you probably should have warned them about the “dollars-per-foot” method of Christmas tree sales.  Also that a review of multiplication facts would have been helpful.

6.  Take their picture so that they can post it on Facebook.

7.  Concur that the extra twenty bucks they paid for this tree can be discounted towards the tree that you didn’t buy last year because you were in San Diego for Christmas, so really the cost of this tree can be divided in half, making it hypothetically less than forty dollars.

8.  Direct them to the garage where they will find the “Christmas box” with all of the ornaments and lights.  Promise to send in a search party if you haven’t heard from them by the time you’ve finished your cup of tea.

9.  Watch as they haul the tree into the living room.  Watch as they wrap the tree in lights.  Watch as they hang ornaments.

10.  Ponder how many other seasonal tasks can be delegated.  Also think about the benefits of cold, hard cash over the debit card system…and how cute your lady lumberjacks look in their matching flannels.

This is what he got:

(MRX, you see, stands for “Magnetic Reconnection Experiment”.  This was a little science experiment Jessica worked on at PPPL examining magnetic field lines in plasmas. This, alas, is the most I can intelligently say about it).

Daddy loved this birthday present.  It’s been sitting on a shelf above his work desk since 2007, and now that he’s retiring, he brought it home.

(I’m trying to remember why the little physicist has pink hair.  Must have been a phase.)

Jim says he wants to display the Little Physicist and Her MRX here, on a shelf near his desk, “for a while, and then we can put it away, carefully.”

Someday maybe our grandchildren will wonder if all physicist ladies have pink hair, or if the funny machine makes scientists’ hairs turn pink, or if their mommy was always such a great play-doh sculptor.

Yep.  She was.