the most wonderful day of

the most wonderful day of the year

up at crack of dawn
but not to greet Santa Claus
greeting puke instead

I expected to be awake early on Christmas morning, but I didn’t expect to be up at 5 am, sitting in the bathtub with a puking wee one.

Misery.

The poor baby was hurling his guts out all day. He couldn’t stand up. His fever finally broke at 104 late in the afternoon. Possibly the saddest thing I have ever seen in my life was a feeble, puking, 2-year-old reaching out for his Santa presents, while laying prostrate halfway on the floor and in my lap.

By about 6 pm he was able to unwrap some presents and have a bite of applesauce. By the next morning he was good as new. For that, I heartily thank the baby Jesus.

Other than the uncontrollable vomiting, the scary fever, the sad baby, the horrified houseguests, the Christmas dinner we never cooked, and the newly discovered lack of towels in the house, we had a fine holiday.

How was yours?

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