We had it all planned for the next day.  Daddy took off work, for once I had no holiday rounds, we’d been building it up for weeks, and it was finally going to be the day our four year old got to see Santa!  Since Thanksgiving I’d been threatening to email his elves if she was naughty.  And then just before midnight she started begging me to help her and was literally writhing in pain.  Trying not to lose it, I calmly asked her what was wrong.  She wailed it was her ear.  It did not look red but when I went to touch it she screamed so loud it even woke my husband.  My girl is tough; REALLY tough.  So I knew something was seriously wrong and figured it might be a bad ear infection.  I called the emergency hotline and the kind nurse asked me the standard litany of terrifying questions as I tried not to wig out.  I had given her Children’s Tylenol three hours prior so it was decided I was allowed to give her Children’s Advil as well.  It was also arranged that we would see the nurse first thing in the morning.  My little one fell into a fitful sleep on my chest as I held her and prayed for her to feel better.  Turns out she not only had fluid in both ears but one was so full there was a danger of it bursting.  Trying not to flip, I asked if a busted ear drum would damage her hearing and how long it would be before we knew.  She is on antibiotics and I was told she should start to feel better in about three days.  Then she threw up four times and they said it was not uncommon because of the incredible pain and pressure she was experiencing.  She asked if she could go to school but could barely hold her eyes open.  So I took her home and let her sleep through some of the pain for most of the day.  When I told her we wouldn’t be seeing Santa (we’d actually missed our chance) she started crying.  I told her Santa wanted her to feel better and that we’d be going next week for sure.  We asked if she’d like to go to her favorite Tex Mex place instead as she struggled against more tears.  Once we got there and she greeted everyone in English and Spanish (they’ve all known her since she was an infant) she started to feel a little bit better.  At least she was able to eat.  When we got home she hugged me and said it was the best day ever.  The best day ever?!  I was running on two hours’ sleep, cleaned up vomit several times, and greatly disappointed my only child.  And yet, she was happy.  Then I thought to myself with no small amount of chagrin that we were all three together, we all got to spend time with each other, and we were all OK.  Out of the mouths of babes …  I close this post with the timeless words of Dr. Seuss:

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons.
It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags.
And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”