Oh, Christmas, time of nervous breakdowns.
Pouring water down my throat, I look up to see Steve across the room. The pom-pom on his Santa hat sways gently. "This hat," he says conversationally "is the only thing holding me together. You should try it."
"No more hats." I mutter. He looks around, grabs a pair of antlers, places them gently on my head.
Steps back, examines them. "Wait--" reaches up to flip a little switch. Tiny lights chase each other around my antlers. "There."
Later, The Sound of Music blaring over the soundsystem, I stop and grin at him. "You love me!"
I point at the speakers. "This says you love me."
Waiting at the door for a bag check, I reel into Dan. He stops me with one arm and puts it around me, holding me up. "Look!" he says, gesturing with his book "Wine!"
"I'm five." I say sulkily. "I can't have wine."
It's the little things that get you through. No, seriously.