Or so it seemed.
At about 2 am (I think. Jet-lag.) I was awakened to the sound of Mr. G's little brother, Bubbo (nickname, obviously) vomiting his brains out in the bathroom just outside my guest bedroom. This wasn't your minor little I'll-feel-better-if-I-throw-up kind of puke. No, this was a full on my-body-is-rebelling-against-me kind of puke. Apparently, this was episode #2. Mr. G himself was about 30 minutes ahead of Bubbo having already had episode #2 and a couple more episodes out the other end.
Before I knew it, I was being serenaded to Carol of the Pukes, instead of Carol of the Bells. Every time I would drift off to sleep, the melodies would echo through the halls from the various bathrooms once again. By 8 am, Mr. G's sister, Holly, and sister-in-law, Ashley, had joined the choir. Luckily, my Cafe Rio dinner has stayed right where I wanted it. In my belly.
Needless to say, it's been a very memorable Christmas. Who knew Santa could bring the stomach flu.....
Mr. G in his sick bed
Holly camping out by the bathroom
Oh, and another highlight, Chancho bit off baby Jesus' hand.
Merry Pukemas to all, and to all a good night!