Family traditions were important in our house, and none was more appreciated than the perfect Christmas tree. “Dad, can we watch when you trim(修剪) the tree?” My eldest son, Dan, nine, and his seven-year-old brother John, asked. “I won’t be cutting this year,” my husband Bob said. “Dan, you and John are old enough to measure things. Do it all by yourselves. Think you boys can handle it?” Dan and John seemed to grow six inches in their chairs at the thought of such an amazing responsibility. “We can handle it,” Dan promised. “We won’t let you down.” A few days before Christmas, Dan and John rushed in after school. They gathered the tools they’d need and brought them out to the yard, where the tree waited. I was cooking when I heard the happy sounds as the boys carried the tree into the living room. Then I heard the sound that every mother knows is trouble: dead silence. I hurried out to them. The tree was cut too short. John crossed his arms tight across his chest. His eyes filled with angry tears. I felt worried. The tree was central to our holiday. I didn’t want the boys to feel ashamed every time they looked at it. I couldn’t lower the ceiling, and I couldn’t raise the floor either. There was no way to undo the damage done. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind, which turned the problem into the solution. “We can’t make the tree taller,” I said. “But we can put it on a higher position.” Dan nodded his head sideways. “We could put it on the coffee table. It just might work! Let’s try it!” When Bob got home and looked at the big tree on top of the coffee table, Dan and John held their breath. “What a good idea!” he declared. “Why didn’t I ever think of such a thing?” John broke into a grin. Dan’s chest swelled with pride. 小题1:The underlined part “grow six inches” (Para. 4) implies the brothers felt .
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