Two phrases that should never be uttered in close proximity.
Christmas. Stomach virus.
I'll understand if some want to read no further.
It was all going really well. We left the house for Christmas celebrations with my family an astounding ten minutes earlier than planned. One of our party was a little miffed that he had to be torn away from a TV show on UFOs. Another seemed unusually sleepy for having enjoyed a sleep-in this morning.
After church we made a hasty trip back to my brother's with a further recalculation of the evening. All our presents were assembled and Jackson and I headed home, hoping that we would not need the box lined with garbage bag, to catch the contents of Jackson's stomach. We did. We were 2 houses away from home. So close.
Husband, God bless him, started cleaning the van carpet. Turns out my lining of the box was rather imperfect. I am just glad we only have two kids and two vehicles.
At 7, when the sleep had been far too brief and interrupted, the J Boy climbed into our bed saying he felt "half better". Around 8 we found Sydney feeling "100% awesome". We suggested checking out the presents and stockings might be a suitable distraction for Jackson. He rallied. All is well.