The very best thing that could possibly happen to a family getting ready to head on a rather long road trip is a bout of the stomach flu. And that is what this past weekend had in store for us around the Sleepy household.

The kiddo started things off on Thursday, sending the friends we had a play date with on Wednesday into a tizzy (he had no indication whatsoever that he was off on Wednesday, so really, not sure how I could have prevented it.) He was mostly better by Friday - though still has not quite mastered the concept of run for the toilet, not mommy, if you think you're going to puke. Give the vast quantities of puke I had deposited all over me, it's not terribly surprising that yesterday the ick found me.

(So, yes, apparently there's a 4 day incubation period. Guessing that means he picked it up at church last week.)

Yesterday found me moaning piteously for the bulk of the day, clinging to an 8-quart stockpot because every joint and muscle in my body felt like it was alternately being sawed in two with something dull and rusty or lit on fire.

Fun times.

I'm happy to report that I woke this morning feeling like life might be worth living after all. The kiddo seems to be mostly over the hump as well (though he's still ever so slightly off. We're both on the applesauce and toast diet around here.) And Tim has, thus far, managed to completely avoid any ill effects. Fingers crossed that trend continues...cause what we *really* don't need is a newborn with the stomach flu.

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