The presents are all opened and the cooking has begun. The boy’s favorite gift at this point is his Nintendo DS, while the lass’ seems to be her Mobigo. Neither has really plumbed the depths of their presents at this point; but the day is early.
The boy had a rough night. As in throwing up at 15 minute intervals, which turned into dry heaves at half-hour, then 1 hour intervals with a final desperate dash for the toilet at 4AM. Only then did he finally start to feel better.
As miserable a time as it was for him, he never lost sight of the night’s goal. He opined at several points, while hunched over the porcelain-food-recycler, that Santa probably wouldn’t be coming since he couldn’t sleep. We told him that all Santa needed was a few minutes. During his last trip to the bathroom, I went downstairs to tend the fire. Upon returning his first question was if Santa had come. I smiled and nodded my head. He returned the smile with one of his own.
Then we all(the Wife, myself and the boy) all went back to bed to catch a few more minutes sleep.
Ahhh Christmas. Good times. Good times.