Twas the night before Christmas Eve

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care.

The presents are wrapped and under the tree.

The pirogi are in the fridge and Papa has bought the ham.

And none of the rushing around or planning matters because Little Bird has a fever of 102. Funny how all of the sudden I don't care about finishing the family's pajama pants when my little boy just needs me to hold him while he fretfully sleeps.

All I want for Christmas is for my little boy to get well and stay well. Poor Little Bird.