Don’t Puke on Santa!

As I drove home from work today, exhausted from elfing way past my bedtime for too many nights, I was thinking about how awesome it was going to be to get home and relax. But, as I often do, I suddenly thought, “what can I do to make this night more busy than it has to be? Oh, I know! It’s a great night to go see Santa and get the kids’ picture with him!”

So, after rounding all four of them up, we were off! The line is 500 miles long, but hey I would walk 500 miles (see what I did there) for my kids to have their picture with Santa so, we waited… and waited.

Finally, about an hour later, we’re fifth or so in line.

Suddenly, I hear what sounds like liquid spilling onto cement and turn to see that Jaxx has vomited, Linda Blair style, ALL OVER Avery, and himself, and the floor, and Santa’s fake snow. Standing frozen, Avery’s eyes are about as big as apples, as she is completely soaked in puke. We clean them both up with wipees and a receiving blanket that I had stashed in the bottom of the diaper bag just for disasters like this. Lucky for me, Avery’s scarf caught the majority… not so lucky for her so, off that went.

Third in line.

Jaxx is pale and I’m on my hands and knees cleaning the floor. Avery is beside herself because she reaks of puke.

Second in line.

I’m now holding my puny little dude, who five minutes before was perfectly fine, and he’s now puking again, on me. We’re trying to catch it in our hands while looking for a trash can and I’ve now got him down on the floor leaning over a box, puking… in front of Santa and God and every one else who brought their precious children to see Santa and not catch stomach bugs that creep up without warning. I mean to tell you, all eyes were on my crew.

We’re next.

By this point, I’m struggling with the guilt of actually considering sitting him on Santa’s lap since we waited all of this time, because: memories, right? Then I start worrying about all of the mean girl moms behind us in line, whispering to each other, “I know she is not going to put that germy little thing on Santa’s lap!” What to do… what to do?

We’re up!

In about 2.5 seconds, I decide to let one of the kids hold Jaxx so he doesn’t pass any germs to Santa’s lap, but before I can think, Santa says, “Alright Mom, here’s what we’re going to do. You sit him right here (on his lap) and walk that way. Turn and look at him and we’ll have this done in 3 seconds.”

And it worked.

I don’t know if Santa felt sorry for us or if he just wanted us out of there, but I’m going to go with the first one and send him an air fist-bump from here. We got one of our annual traditions knocked out tonight and made a memory while we were at it. Jaxx puked and dry-heaved the whole way home and in the bathtub once we got there, but he is sleeping soundly at this moment. He’s never been put to bed without a bottle first, so I’m anticipating a middle-of-the-night wake up call from that little speaker that sits right next to my face at night. Here’s to hoping this passes quickly and doesn’t spread to anyone else in our house… ain’t nobody got time for that!

Merry Christmas! Ha!


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