First Christmas

This is the story of a girl who just spent her first Christmas ever. That girl happens to be Sophia, the best baby girl in the whole wide world. Also, she happens to be my daughter. But I’m being objective: ask anyone in my family.

In any event, Sophia is now 9 1/2 months old (the half is important, as any parent will tell you). And so, she spent her very first Christmas this year, clearly not quite understanding what was going on around her. Still enjoying herself, as she almost always does. Even though she’s been suffering from a recurring bout of gastroentiritis for the past few weeks, which she was generous enough to share with the entire family, it appears. And so, right when we were about to start dessert, she barfed her entire bottle of milk on my wife. Then again, we’re used to it — my brother and aunt, less so.

After the barfing came presents, though. And that part she particularly liked, for some strange reason. We specifically told everyone not to go overboard with the gifts because we don’t want to have to open a second-hand baby gift shop down the line, yet she was still showered with presents. Not literally — she prefers baths. And she clearly understood what that part was about: when the time came to unwrap a toy train, she literally gasped at the sight of the box, frantically trying to grab it away from my wife’s hands. Like she’d never had a toy in her entire life, even though her room is already filled with them. Well, more so now.

That was December 24th. The next day, my wife took baby girl to Lyon to see the in-laws while I was supposed to work, but instead nursed my own little bout of gastroenteritis (no pictures necessary). And she got more presents, judging by the pictures I got. She might get used to this…