This isthe final vacation post- I promise.
One more bit of info- sans picture (trust me, you'll appreciate that). On our way to Florida and on the way home we drove straight through. 12 hours ish, mostly during the night. Kids slept most of the way- it was really nice. On our way TO Florida, we stopped at Cracker Barrell fir dinner because we ALWAYS stop at Cracker Barrell on long trips. I'm not sure why, we just do. Sam ordered pancakes, but didn't eat them. Just a bite of sausage and then sucked down his chocolate milk while proclaiming how great it was. He said it was magic and made him feel so much better (remember how he was a bit feverish before we left???) He really was acting fine- just saying his belly hurt every now and then and then sleeping alot more. We finish dinner, drive across the street to the gas station. While pulling in, Sam declares he's gonna puke. Dan keeps driving. Until I begin screaming to stop the -bleep- bleep- bleep- car and open the -bleep- bleep- door. Sam makes it to the gas station trash can, can't reach into the top and proceeds to hurl his little self up all over the concrete. I clean him up, give him water to rinse his mouth with and say a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he didn't do this in the car while we are hundreds of miles from home. It was then that I looked up. Into the eyes of a man who is parked on the other side of the pump.......with his window down.........who just witnessed the grossed thing in history. All I could really say was 'sorry' as I mopped up the concrete with my roll of paper towels.
And that was that. Sam was fine afterward (thankfully). And we finished driving across the country with no more vomit. The end.