In the photo above, I was one and a half years old. My sister in the pink jacket was nearly seven years old. It was ten days before Christmas and my family had gone to get our Christmas tree. My family has the tradition of cutting down our own tree every year so we went to Pheasant Ridge Farms, a local pine tree farm. I had so many layers on that I could barely bend my arms. I could not lower them below 45 degrees as I waddled around in my snow pants. It was so tiring to waddle in my thick snow pants that I had to get help walking between the rows of trees. At the time, the Christmas tree we ended up cutting down seemed to tower over me. When we eventually took the tree home my family made sure to put all the fragile ornaments on the upper half of the tree out of my reach. I would walk by the tree and knock off any ornaments within my reach. The only ornaments that I was allowed to touch were the ones that had no chance of being broken. I remember when I was little every C...