Mette Ivie Harrison, Children's writer, triathlete, marathons, Ironman, training, fitness, workouts, The Princess and the Hound, Mira, Mirror, The Monster In Me, The Hound and the Bear, Young Adult Books, Fantasy, Romance, yoga


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Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and ask if he could gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. And she would say yes. And he would ask if he could climb up her trunk and swing from her branches, and she would say yes, boy, I love you. I love to play with you and spend time with you and teach you. And the boy asked if he could eat her apples, and she said, yes, eat as many as you can and share the rest. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when they were both tired, they would sleep together in the shade of the forest. And the boy loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy. But time went by and the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone, but the tree didn't mind so much, because now the tree had a chance to talk to the other trees in the forest, and to sell her apples to buy things that she liked for herself, like bug spray and worm poison. And to just sit and watch the clouds go by in the quiet of the day, and to watch the beautiful spray of sunset each night. Or to feel the cold snap of winter coming in. Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, "Boy, you have grown into a man. That is wonderful. What are you going to do with your life?" And the boy who was not quite a man said, "Hey, I need some money. Do you have money?" And the tree said, "I'm sorry. I've used my little fund of money for myself." And the boy said, "What? You selfish tree! That should have been my money! Give me my money!" But the tree said, "You need to earn your own money, boy. I can't do it for you the rest of your life and it wouldn't be good for you if I did." But the boy was angry and got out a chainsaw and tried to take it to the tree's branches so he could cut them off and take them to the city to sell them for money. But the tree was not as weak as the boy thought, and the chainsaw broke on her first branch and the boy swore at it and kicked at it, and then he went away. And the tree was happy. But the boy came back the next day, with a friend and two chainsaws and the tree was not so lucky. The boy and his friend cut her into pieces, all the way down to a stump, and carted her off. They couldn't even find anyone to buy her branches, so they ended up throwing them in a dumpster and then beat each other up. And the boy became a drug addict and after many years, he was wandering in the forest and came to the tree stump again. He didn't remember this was the tree he had hurt, so he sat down on it and thought he would just rest a while. But the tree remembered who he was. She wasn't much these days, just an old stump. But an old stump could do something. So she straightened herself up on one side and he fell off. He swore and picked himself up and sat on the stump again. And this time, the tree sent up the ants that had settled into a home beneath her roots to bite him on the butt, and the worms that had infested her to dig deep into his muscle tissue. And the boy ran away screaming that he would never return to the forest again. And the tree was happy. The End I just get tired of this story being used as an example of how women and especially mothers are so wonderful to their children. Look, it's great to be loving, but there's a point reached fairly early on in the story where the tree is doing something that is called in pop psychology "enabling." What this really means is that the tree is giving so much that she is actually taking away from the boy's chance to grow up. So he never does. He's a miserable old man at the end and he can be miserable with the tree. That's supposed to be love? Not in my book. Return to home page

Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and ask if he could gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. And she would say yes. And he would ask if he could climb up her trunk and swing from her branches, and she would say yes, boy, I love you. I love to play with you and spend time with you and teach you. And the boy asked if he could eat her apples, and she said, yes, eat as many as you can and share the rest. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when they were both tired, they would sleep together in the shade of the forest. And the boy loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy.

But time went by and the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone, but the tree didn't mind so much, because now the tree had a chance to talk to the other trees in the forest, and to sell her apples to buy things that she liked for herself, like bug spray and worm poison. And to just sit and watch the clouds go by in the quiet of the day, and to watch the beautiful spray of sunset each night. Or to feel the cold snap of winter coming in.

Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, "Boy, you have grown into a man. That is wonderful. What are you going to do with your life?" And the boy who was not quite a man said, "Hey, I need some money. Do you have money?" And the tree said, "I'm sorry. I've used my little fund of money for myself." And the boy said, "What? You selfish tree! That should have been my money! Give me my money!" But the tree said, "You need to earn your own money, boy. I can't do it for you the rest of your life and it wouldn't be good for you if I did."

But the boy was angry and got out a chainsaw and tried to take it to the tree's branches so he could cut them off and take them to the city to sell them for money. But the tree was not as weak as the boy thought, and the chainsaw broke on her first branch and the boy swore at it and kicked at it, and then he went away. And the tree was happy.

But the boy came back the next day, with a friend and two chainsaws and the tree was not so lucky. The boy and his friend cut her into pieces, all the way down to a stump, and carted her off. They couldn't even find anyone to buy her branches, so they ended up throwing them in a dumpster and then beat each other up.

And the boy became a drug addict and after many years, he was wandering in the forest and came to the tree stump again. He didn't remember this was the tree he had hurt, so he sat down on it and thought he would just rest a while. But the tree remembered who he was. She wasn't much these days, just an old stump. But an old stump could do something. So she straightened herself up on one side and he fell off. He swore and picked himself up and sat on the stump again. And this time, the tree sent up the ants that had settled into a home beneath her roots to bite him on the butt, and the worms that had infested her to dig deep into his muscle tissue. And the boy ran away screaming that he would never return to the forest again.

And the tree was happy.

The End

I just get tired of this story being used as an example of how women and especially mothers are so wonderful to their children. Look, it's great to be loving, but there's a point reached fairly early on in the story where the tree is doing something that is called in pop psychology "enabling." What this really means is that the tree is giving so much that she is actually taking away from the boy's chance to grow up. So he never does. He's a miserable old man at the end and he can be miserable with the tree. That's supposed to be love? Not in my book.

Return to home page