A Reading Specialist’s Christmas Aliteracy

Last year, I decided I needed a new Christmas tree skirt. My color scheme for our tree had evolved over the years, and I was overdue for a new skirt that better complemented the tree.

The day I decided to find one, I had a list of things to buy and a series of stores to check, and had still not found a skirt to my liking by the time I hit Marshalls, the last store I had time to stop at before leaving to pick up my boys. I only had about five minutes, but I was determined to leave with a tree skirt. My plan hit a small snag when my daughter, three at the time, was lured away from me by the sight of discount Hello Kitty paraphernalia, and I had to hunt her down. By the time I had completed the search-and-rescue mission, I had about two minutes to select the skirt, pay for it, and get back on the road. So when I saw a beautiful red skirt with a line of gold threading woven through it, I bought it, and put it under the tree when we got home.

Two nights later, after getting the small people in bed, I sat back on the couch and admired our tree for a moment. Then, I looked closely at the tree skirt for the first time. I blinked and looked again. And then I checked yet again, one more time to be sure.

LCB was sitting on his throne recliner watching the news. “Does the gold on the tree skirt actually form a letter R?” I asked him, staring hard at the swirls.

I suppose it’s important to mention here that our last name does not begin with the letter R.

“Yes,” answered LCB, not missing a beat.

“What do you mean? Do you mean to tell me that we’ve had a letter R on our tree skirt for the better part of three days and you never once felt the need to mention it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

It’s beyond me how he can suddenly embrace brevity during one of the few moments where verbosity would perhaps elucidate.

So I had to go back to the store to return the skirt, of course announcing both my aliteracy and my stupidity to the cashier and several nearby employees and customers when asked, “Is there anything wrong with the tree skirt, ma’am?” And then, I had to hear it broadcast through the store as one employee radioed another employee to check for a skirt with the correct letter. They were all exceedingly polite about it, but I know what I’d be thinking if I were the one hearing the story and not the one who created it.

Slowly but surely, I’m taking clueless to a whole new level.