12 Days of… Mud

The Dallas Arboretum and Botanical Garden is a modern day marvel. It’s one of the best places to visit in Dallas, yet it still feels like a hidden gem even though they hit 1,000,000 visitors for the first time this year. That’s like 2,750 people per day-ish. Impressive.

Every year, we go visit the 12 Days of Christmas there. It’s a family tradition. And it’s funny to me because all those times we’ve been, all the times I’ve successfully made it through the “12 Day of Christmas” song by whatever artist, I can NEVER remember all of the days’ events.

To recap:

First day is a partridge in a pear tree

Second day is a two turtle doves

Third day is three French hens

Fourth day is four calling birds

Fifth day is five golden rings

Sixth day is six geese a’ laying

Seventh day is seven swans a’ swimming

Eighth day is eight maid a’ milking

Ninth day is nine ladies dancing

Tenth day is ten lords a’ leaping

Eleventh day is eleven pipers piping

Twelfth day is twelve drummers drumming

And done.

So all of these are on display in these fantastic display cases at the Arboretum.  It’s truly impressive. Each has a two song loop of Christmas carols to accompany. The vendors sell their wares, perhaps an LED wand, a Christmas wreath or even a mulled wine. You can get it all while you’re jolly-holly-Christmas-ing down the paths.

But sometimes you take a short cut. Sometimes your wife tells you the fastest way is the easiest way. Which clearly she doesn’t remember the movie Road Trip when either Paulo Costanzo or Seann William Scott reminds us that if it wasn’t hard then it’d just be “the way”.

So dad, with Emmy Kate on his shoulders, listens to Jess and we take the path of least resistance. And by least resistance, by definition, means the way with the least friction possible. Well… sliding through mud is pretty dang free of friction. As evidenced by Dad’s fall.

All I could think of was, don’t let Emmy get hurt. It was like a scene from any college student who is swept off their feet while holding a beverage. It’s natural to protect it above yourself. For some reason. But luckily that inane trait was ingrained in Mr. Horn. Emerson was safe, despite Dad’s spill.

I will say that I let the mulled wine cup spill onto the grass as my priorities from college have clearly switched from saving the beverage to saving the daughter.


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