Girl 1 used to be quite the power puker.  This will not thrill her to know that I have shared this with you, but this is what this Christmas story is all about.  We now know that Girl 1 was allergic to milk, which was the cause of her projectile vomiting, but we didn’t know it then, and we happily filled her bottle with a milk based formula several times a day.

We went Christmas shopping with my brother-in-law and his wife at the mall.  The mall was crowded with the usual yuletide present imbibers.  They scurried about attempting to find the perfect gift or at least a gift that would suffice.  Dear Man, brother-in-law, his wife, and I were lazily wandering around.  We had completed most of our Christmas shopping and were out and about mainly for the chance to mingle with other people, without having to actually interact with them. 

I wanted to go look at some clothes in Sears, and the others decided to go look at a couch in a furniture store.  We went our separate ways, and I took Girl 1 with me.  We hadn’t brought a stroller or carrier to pack the baby into, as we all took turns holding her.  I did have a diaper bag that carried a couple of diapers, some wipes, a change of baby clothes and a full bottle.  With Girl 1 in my arms I found the women’s department. 

I looked at this shirt and that, checking prices and sizes.  Girl 1 was facing away from me as she liked to see where we were going and not where we had been.  Next thing I knew, Girl 1 was throwing up!  I promptly turned her around so she would throw up all over me instead of all those clothes.  She kept it up for what seemed like an eternity, and she was getting rather heavy.  I slumped to the floor and just held her in my lap until she was done. 

Girl 1 finally emptied her stomach, and she smiled sweetly at me, as she patted her hands in the mess she had made.  I struggled to my feet and went to find the restroom to clean up.  I changed Girl 1 into the spare outfit, but I had nothing to change into, so I just wiped myself as clean as I could, and finally headed back out into the wide-open department store.  I stood in the aisle for a moment trying to think what I wanted to do.  Should I go find the others and tell them I wanted to go home, or should I buy a new shirt and keep shopping? 

While I was standing there, a clerk came up and handed me a nice white turtle neck.  I looked at her in surprise, as she explained, “Someone saw what happened and they bought this shirt for you.”  I asked if I could thank them and she said, “No, they paid for it and left.”  I did manage to thank the clerk, and I went back into the restroom to change my stinky sweatshirt. 

Whoever you are, thank you.  I think of you every Christmas, and I pray that you are healthy, happy, and truly know Jesus so that I can thank you in person in Heaven.  Merry Christmas!