Yes, that is a plastic stomach.
Santa, being a dutiful and women friendly fairy tale, remembered to bring Vivian something science related. He brought her “Sick Stomach“. Why yes, that means exactly what you think. I get to make pretend vomit with my kid. She’s pestered me all day long to do it, and I’ve been able to put her off because we need things to make it, like digestive cookies. Yes, I do see the irony on that one.
After all the candy and cookies and sheer crap that I’ve had, I couldn’t stomach making barf.
The sheer awesomeness of having a science obsessed daughter is my gift.
I, aside from my tattoo, got an Aerogrow. The bets are on for how long it takes for me to kill everything. It’s pretty cool, and also functions as a pretty damn good reading lamp.
Small Christmas, but good Christmas. Pooper Scooper Barbie was well received (poop already lost), T-Rex Playmobil caused squeeing, everyone happy, and gaining weight from the sheer amount of crap gifted to us. If I never see another gummy lifesaver again, it will be too soon.
Now if you don’t mind me, I have a bottle of white wine to finish off.