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Ambassador T'Pol monitored the mission progress that had, so far, not achieved success but had wreaked havoc amongst their home. While not the traditional plant used for this custom, the Vulcan equivalent had the same spiny leaves as the Terran plant, though it lacked the cone shape.
Or at least it had before T'Mir and Lorian had begun to "trim" the tree.
"You are certain this is what a Christmas tree looks like?" She asked her eldest child, her daughter, as the precocious ten year old guided her three year old brother through pruning efforts with patience.
T'Mir consulted the picture book on the table, The Night Before Christmas, and nodded. "Yes, mother. There is a distinct angular shape I believe we can mimic with several more adjustments."
T'Pol nodded approvingly, a method of reassurance she had unconsciously picked up from her husband over the years, but knew that the children benefited from overt gesture so she did not suppress the affection. She often had to recalibrate what she remembered of her childhood, so as to apply it effectively to her own half-human children; the methods with which she demonstrated affection had to be more physical and demonstrative than how she'd have parented a full Vulcan child.
There was a soft scuffle of noise at the entryway and she recognized her husband's approach. She spun her body just enough that she could see the front door and the sitting room in the same range of vision. As such, she saw Trip enter, and as easily as he shed his outer robe, he left Michael Kenmore to be put away.
He had sacrificed so much during the war, ultimately had lost everything that had made him Commander Charles Tucker, but what remained he'd given to her. He had scraped together every last piece and together they had forged a life. One that included an intimate family unit of the four of them, dinner together every night, and the peace of mind he had never been able to find on Earth after the Xindi attack.
"Hey, darlin'," he greeted with a smile, scraping his fingers through his hair and ruffling it wearily as he crossed the entryway to press a kiss against the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, their hands met and their two forefingers touch with a psychic spark that infused T'Pol's mind with a sense of the warmth and love that he projected to her. "What's with the mess?"
She gestured to the side, indicating he should inspect the new decor.
He tilted his head, his blue eyes glittering with mirth but also confusion. "It's a tree."
"A Christmas tree!" T'Mir exclaimed, snipping away one last branch that she clearly thought made it clear what it was.
"We are trimming the tree," T'Pol explained, her face softening at the delight on Trip's face.
"Do we have ornaments?"
Both she and T'Mir furrowed their brows identically as they considered the question. T'Pol answered succinctly, "No. I searched trimming trees and it did not indicate that ornamentation was required."
"No worries," he announced, clapping his hands excitedly before he picked Lorian up and tossed him lightly in the air and caught him again. "We'll do this old school. Let's make some popcorn, kids."