Vomit, a Trainride, and a Magical Hotel Bill.

Nothing says Family Road Trip like a carful of sick.

Well, technically the car wasn't FULL, but that smell surely does linger, even when you stop at a Mobil station to get everyone cleaned up. Two hours into a four hour trip, turning back really isn't an option. Once we determined it was motion sickness and not bird flu, we kept heading north.

We borrowed a portable dvd player from a generous and trusting friend who understands the true meaning of long car trips with children. It was a great idea, until about halfway through "Elf" C.P. called out from the back, "Mommy, I don't feel very wellAAARRRGGHHHLLLLAAAABBBLLLLLAAAAGGGGHHHH!"

Uh...honey? I think you need to pull over.

Twenty minutes later, C.P. snugged up in clean sweats and his Spidey sleeping bag (his booster cover had...shall we say...that not-so-fresh feeling) we were back on our way north, sans "Elf," because I think it was the motion that caused the regurgicommotion.

When we got to the hotel, which was half the fun for these guys, we pointed out to C.P. that someone had slid something under the door.

Investigating, he announced, "It's tickets. With Santa on them. What is it, Mom?" We read aloud the note that Santa had cleverly left with the tickets, inviting us all on the Polar Express and to the North Pole to visit before Christmas, that very evening.

His reaction? Let's just say that sometimes it's great to be a parent. He never asked why we were videotaping him jumping up and down and squealing, "Polar Express!!!! Polar Express!!!" Or why I was all weepy. He doesn't ask, he just accepts. One of the many reasons why I adore him.

So the remainder of the night was full of genuine, child-made Christmas spirit, the magic of a trainride even further north, the most realistic Stinky Socks I've ever seen, hot chocolate and extremely cheerful elves (finally! I was beginning to think they only made cranky ones these days). It was, as they say, a success.

The next morning, the four of us were enjoying a Saturday morning snuggle-in thanks to the Holiday Inn's king-size bed, and John and Squishy were still asleep. Suddenly, C.P. whispers, "Mom! Someone just slid something under the door!" and jumped out of bed to see what it was.

He brought it over to me and I whispered it aloud, "Dear C.P., I'm so glad you and your sister came to visit me last night. I hope you had a good time, and I'll see you next weekend! Love,
Santa Claus."

The shining eyes and huge, ear-to-ear grin that gazed up at me, not only in total amazement, but utter trust, are a memory I'll keep with me always.

Who knew a hotel bill could bring so much joy?


In case I don't post again this week due to shopping, baking, wrapping, cooking and singing, I hope you all have a wonderfully Happy Christmas!

1 comment:

donna said...

I'm so glad it went well, except for the vomiting of course!

Merry Christmas, sweetie!