Twenty years ago I had pneumonia starting on Christmas Eve and an 8 month old baby. That "baby" really stepped up today when I was felled by the flu. Fever. Chills. Aches. Cough. The works. But Sam helped Gogo throw a smashing Christmas Eve Feast of the Seven Fishes, while I groaned and trembled on the sofa. Now in my own bed trembling and groaning. Maybe this is a once every couple of decades thing?
Still, it's Christmas and I love it. Annabelle figured out this year who Santa is, but she still left out cookies and milk and a note. And went to sleep surely with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head.
Merry Christmas to you and yours. May the day be merry and bright.
