A Christmas wish: Get back to basics

"Dad, let's go to that other lot," the little girl suggests.

Da Vinci never cared this much about shape and form. Rembrandt never cared this much for color. Beethoven spent less time on a symphony than we do picking out a simple 6-foot fire hazard.

Our budget for the perfect tree is $60, but Posh spots one for $89 that she kind of adores.

"Can we eat it for Christmas dinner?" I ask.

"No."

"Then we're not spending $89 on a tree," I say.

When we get the $89 tree home, it turns out to be mounted poorly and doesn't sit straight up in the stand (an extra 7 bucks). At first, we bend it back straight, but once we get the 120 strings of lights and 48,000 ornaments on it, it begins to teeter again. A friend dubbed it the Leaning Tower of Christmas.

None of us has the energy or the time to de-decorate the tree, re-cut the trunk, buy another stand, then decorate the tree again (estimated time: 12 to 14 hours).

So we've started a pool on when exactly it will fall over.

The smart money? Christmas Eve.

::

Dear Santa,

Won't keep you long. You can cancel that Porsche I ordered earlier? Personal bankruptcy looms like one of Dickens' ghosts. I don't fear unemployment so much as I fear daytime television. That would very well do me in.

And I guess my request for peace on Earth will have to wait another year too -- there's no telling what those cowards with automatic rifles will try next.

So here, with a smaller and more-contented holiday in mind, is my revised Christmas list:

* A giant aspirin, big as a hockey puck.

* Two hours Christmas Day to watch the Lakers crush the Celtics.

* One honest moment.

And if you can't manage the other two, I'll settle for the one honest moment, where I have the courage to tell the ones I love how truly crazy I am for them. I am head- over-heels nuts for my wife, my mom, my kids and even my sisters (seriously).

Why I can't be more upfront about this is anyone's guess. It might be because I'm a dad. It might be because I'm originally from the Midwest. It might just be because I'm a notorious goof-up.

But if you can give me one honest moment over the holidays -- maybe two -- I'll tell them all how I feel about them, not to mention a few old friends whom I'm pretty loopy for as well.

Sappy? As a Fraser fir. Sensible? As a Sears sweater.

Welcome to California, Santa. Remember, clothing optional.

For more "Man of the House" columns, go to latimes.com/erskine.

chris.erskine@latimes.com