Poor little buddy, he was pitiful for a couple of hours, but then seemed to perk right up. He was even asking for food. We stuck to the bland basics, and all seemed fine. Saturday was good. I cooked a hearty dinner and even cooked food for a planned Sunday outing. We watched a movie together and snuggled in, and all was good. Until 3:30 am.
Awakened by a loud and pained shout from Vern, I jumped out of bed. Not quite sure what was being shouted or what was happening, I ran into the hallway to see Zack and Vern standing in front of Zack's room, which I was able to assess in a quick glance was covered in puke. Hearty dinner had been hurled. From near to far, from here to there, there was upchuck everywhere.
Within a few short minutes, I, too, was running for the bathroom, then Vern, then Ryan. It was not unlike the Stand By Me Barforama. By 6 am, every body in the house had been affected. Everybody that is, except for Ethan, who was sleeping soundly. Sunday was most definitely NOT a fun day. In fact, we are all still in recovery. Not as resilient as our little guy, it is taking much longer than a couple of hours to shake this thing.
Nothing better to start the holiday week, right? Well, on the plus side, at least I dropped a couple of pounds to make room for Thanksgiving Day's calorie load. See, there is a silver lining.