So. I don't really know the true meaning of Boxing Day. But around here, we celebrate big. We stay in our PJs all day, and play with all our new toys. And in the evening, I cook up a big fancy Christmas Ham Dinner. This year, before the ham was half cooked, my Sara had spent the entire day sleeping, adding up to nearly 30 solid hours, then promptly coughed so hard she puked. Which landed her back in bed. I was setting the table when Will fell asleep on the floor in his bedroom, decided he wasn't hungry and went straight to bed. Down to four, and worse, Will's my very biggest fan of ham. I lost energy for the whole deal by the time I'd reached the green beans, so we sided with apples and store-bought buns instead. All the while, the phrase "No one's walking out on this fun old-fashioned family Christmas!" running wildly through my head.
But the ham was sure good. And there are days of leftovers left over.
It was just a little quieter at the dinner table that night. And yes. Still in our PJs...and bedhead.
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