It could be a sign that your Christmas festivities are not off to a good start when they necessitate The Rug Doctor and a trip to the pediatrician's office.
We have been dreading the possible moment when one of us catches the malevolent stomach bug that's been going around town. We know two people who ended up at the emergency room as a result, and I've been washing my hands like Lady MacBeth with OCD trying to prevent it. It seemed all of our hygienic efforts had been for naught when, on Saturday night--mere minutes after he'd been put to bed--Connery pulled an Exorcist all over his (need I say) carpeted bedroom. We thought for sure that we were in for it, and spent the night on high alert, buckets at the ready.
Fortunately, the onslaught never came. Unfortunately, it distracted us somewhat from the developing bronchial issues--at least until next evening, when we spent much of the night trying to make sure that he hadn't coughed up a lung. By Christmas Eve, we knew a doctor's visit was necessary. We didn't know that the doctor's visit would turn into a hospital visit for a chest x-ray, which confirmed that he had bronchitis.
Several milliliters of oral steroids and antibiotics later, he was on the mend, and Christmas actually turned out to be quite relaxing and enjoyable. It could be perhaps that the contrast made it all that much nicer. Here's to a 2008 that does not include nearly so many exciting trips to the doctor. Except for that pesky baby-having in May, of course.
Merry belated Christmas to those of you who celebrate it, and early New Year's greetings, too.