Before we left for fireworks last night James told us he had a tummy ache. We loaded him into the car anyways. As we were heading down our hill we realized how serious his tummyache was. He brought a big white bag in case he needed to throw up. WHAT!?? We decide that instead of parking along the street without access to a bathroom like we were going to do that maybe we should head over to our two oldest son's condo. We call Jake and he says we can come on over. Steve decides to take a trip down memory lane as we get to Jake's and drive by our old house, which really wasn't that far away, but when you have someone who doesn't feel good in the backseat, exiting the car asap sounds like a great plan to me. I had to TELL Steve to drive FASTER down the street and not the crawl that we were doing. No sooner did we drive up to the Jake's and James started vomiting-big time. He was able to get it into his white bag. Steve parks the car and I try to help James, but you know how it is when someone else is throwing up. I had to turn away or I would have joined him. I ran up to their condo and got a wet papertowel and a trashbag to put the white paperbag in. I pick up the paperbag and all the vomit pours out the moment. Okay, I almost lost it. Poor Steve, but not really, remember he was the one driving us around, took over and put the trash in the plastic trash bag. Ugh.....We go upstairs and let him rest for an hour.
Then I swear that we'll be able to see the fireworks from their balcony. Wrong! We piled into our minivan and went to a nearby hill to watch the show. We dropped them off at home afterwards, came home and had James brush his teeth. Kids, you gotta love 'em.
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