Mookey-Pukey Christmas

Our Christmas was a quiet one, with really just our immediate family, and that was a good thing because there was puking. This time I didn't let the Sprout drink any balsamic vinegar, so at least it's not my fault. Christmas Eve the little guy got a minor fever, and by 2:00 a.m. he was feeling very hot, and so he said "Mummy, want cow-mook [which we all know to be 'cow's milk']". I got him a nice cold glass of cow-mook, and we sat in a little heap on the bed while he drank it.

Unfortunately, very cold milk in a very hot tummy can mean sudden projectile vomiting. Who knew. (Although it feels like intuitive knowledge once it happens...)Yoicks! We were both so soaked that we both had to take a little bath, while Jimbo was kind enough to change the bedsheets.

There was only the one incident, and soon we were tucked snug in our beds again. Christmas Day, I had to carry Sprout around all day because he was still a bit feverish and whiney, but he rallied for a while after breakfast when we showed him what it meant to open presents. He got quite into that, but there was no wrapping-ripping frenzy as I had pictured beforehand.

Because Sprout wasn't feeling well, we put off making a turkey until Boxing Day, and that was a nice decision. We just spent Christmas reading books, watching movies, and playing with Sprout's new train.