COLUMBUS _ ``Can we go pick out a tree?’’ the little miscreant said Sunday, the first day we’d seen snow on the ground this season.

``Too early,’’ I called from the bedroom, where Uncle Chet and I were building a small stud wall.

``I was asking Mom,’’ she said in that cheeky tone that drives me crazy.

``Too early,’’ Hon repeated, for we know that if we’re divided, we will be conquered.

``Grandma has her tree up,’’ the eighth-grade future lawyer noted.

``That’s an artificial tree,’’ Hon said. ``You can set that up any time.’’

``Can we get an artificial tree?’’ she persisted.

``When we’ve got five hundred growing in the back yard?’’ I said, and Uncle Chet and I moseyed into the kitchen where the soup was on.

``Looks like someone’s all excited about Christmas,’’ he said, standing there in his Carhartt dungarees and flannel shirt.

``She gets all excited in July,’’ I said.[an error occurred while processing this directive]