Christmas begins with our warm-up tree.

I don't know why, but we get things going by decorating a crappy, two foot tall fake tree and then about a week later I go out and get a real one. At that point I assume the little tree remains as a back-up in case of yuletide emergencies.

The boys excitedly decorated the pre-tree (which took a minute and a half), then we dimmed the room lights in preparation of the ceremonial plugging-in. Upon ignition, my 5-year-old became possessed by the gods of dance. As he spazzed out, he demanded we join him, so I blasted what seemed like an appropriate holiday tune, All The Single Ladies by Beyonce, and we all danced around the tiny tree in the dark like crazy people.

These were 3 of my favorite minutes of 2008.

It's not too hard to look back on perfect moments in time after they're gone, but it's rare, at least for me, to realize it while they're happening. So I have my little one to thank for a surreal, perfect snippet of family joy.

Unfortunately, other snippets that come to mind courtesy of him also include: eating my father-in-law's ear medicine, flushing an assortment of unflushables down the toilet and spitefully dropping my wife's cell phone down the living room heating vent. So it is with much anticipation that I look forward to this year's box of Christmas Raisins.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, 2 years ago I was curious to see how my then 3-year-old would react to receiving a little box of raisins on Christmas morning as compared to the other expensive gifts he was getting. A fantastic tradition was born.

A year later we did the experiment again with truly wonderful results. (Click here for actual audio of that morning.)

Here we are again, poised to see how a now 5-year-old will react to Raisins for Christmas. And what will hopefully be another perfect moment in time. At least for me.