Chrismas started off ok, but it quickly went downhill. We gave the kids a few presents, smiles all around, and cleaned up. At about 1, I got a call over my pager for a fire in a bedroom, and I raced to the scene in time to see some black smoke issuing from an apartment window. Luckily no one was hurt and there was relatively little property damage; still, I felt bad for the man who owned the place.
I got home to discover that Emmett's stomach was achier than usual. He's been having headaches and abdominal cramps, but these were worse than anything he'd had up till now. Shirra called the doctor and we kept giving him fluids, but a few hours later, as he was brushing his teeth, he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. I rubbed his back and told him to let loose if he had to, and sure enough, he puked twice into the sink. His evening only got worse, really, as he woke up several times for more of the same, and by morning he was exhausted from dehydration and lack of sleep. Shirra was exhausted, too, but I wasn't too tired because I'd gone to bed early in order to help Emmett thruout the night. He spent today recovering from the previous 12 hours, and by keeping him on ginger ale and crackers, we kept the vomiting at bay.
It wasn't the happiest Christmas, but at least it was memorable.
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