So Owen didn't bounce out of bed this morning.
Which is a little weird, but, whatever, right?
Except then he walked into our bedroom, and, right before he faceplants onto our bed, says, "I don't feel very good." And before he went down, I saw that particular shade of green that means, "VOMIT A' COMIN'!!
And then Owen went to the bathroom, and then melted a little bit on the toilet, and Chris picked him up and brought him back in the room.
As he was holding him, I looked over and saw that Owen's lips were turning blue, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.
Chris shouted, "Owen!" and I already had the 9 and the 1 dialed, but then Owen woke back up and vomited.
We cleaned up, and tucked him in bed, and then went to the hallway to discuss. From the bedroom, we hear Owen wail, "Oh NO!" and, already being on an adrenaline high, Chris vaults over me to reach Owen in a single bound.
"I'm going to miss my Christmas concert!" he cries.
And so he did, and vomited all day.
Merry Christmas to all.