Our plans were to do "Christmas morning" on Christmas Eve at our house, have a relaxing day, and drive to my in-laws' house whenever we got around to it that afternoon or evening. Let's just say the universe had other plans.
By the time I was finished putting the last candy cane in the last stocking, took a picture of the tree, and poured out Santa's milk, it was 3 am., and I went up to kiss the kids good night. Shepherd was red-faced and burning. His temperature was only 100, but he was miserable. I hoped and prayed that it was a fluke, and he would be okay the next day, but I knew.
He powered through opening presents, faked enthusiasm, and fell asleep. Zoey was thrilled with her presents, but halfway through playing with her dollhouse, she just cuddled up on my lap and fell asleep. And her temperature was 101. And that was our Christmas week. All plans were cancelled, no one's fevers would go down. Zoey forced herself to vomit her medicine up and had to get an antibiotic shot the day after Christmas, we took two trips to urgent care, and Brandon got the flu too.
So. It was just one year, and we finally got to have Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa this past weekend. It was relaxed, we didn't have to rush around to huge family get togethers, but it was still a bummer to spend our week coughing our butts off.