'Twas the night after Christmas, and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
And, of course, Big Trouble calling me because he had just thrown up in the bathroom.
Actually, to be more specific, I should probably say that he threw up on the bathroom. I'm not sure of the chain of events, but it actually looked like he had executed some sort of spin in the process of losing his meals of the day. He claims to have no memory of the actual event, so he's no help at all.
I always enjoy the moment when I'm standing and staring at the aftermath of such an event; my newly-awakened eyes are blinking in the shockingly bright light, and I have to get my semi-functional brain to figure out how to clean this particular disaster up. At one point during the cleanup, I felt like one of those CSI people trying to piece together the crime based on spatter patterns, but I decided that this was neither helpful nor kind to my own stomach.
Luckily, he did manage to make it to the bathroom, so the bed was unscathed - a Christmas Miracle after all!
Otherwise, Christmas #1 (we have a couple others coming in the next couple of days with various relatives) was a big success, and we hope yours was as well.