Not gonna lie…I’ve been putting off this part of the story because it HORRIFIED me to see the pictures I’m about to show you the first time, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go there again.
Christmas Eve is always at my parents house. We start out around 10 am with brunch, which usually consists of fondue french toast and homemade maple butter (DELICIOUS!) Then we sit around, play games, toss the football, shoot some guns…you know, just a regular old family gathering. There was a possibility of all of us spending the night, so I had brought George (my teddy bear) along with other sleep over stuff. After presents were opened and everyone was done playing games, we decided to go to our own homes to sleep…a.k.a. go down the hill. We gathered up stuff and headed out, to return the next morning for brunch again around 11 am.
When I got to the house and finally crawled into bed, I realized that I had left George at my parents, but it was too late to go up the hill to get him, and let’s be honest…I’m not THAT attached to him.
I awoke the next morning, and a post from my mother on facebook made me sit up and pay attention: