After nary a bump in the road or complaint from the rugrats, in just under 6 hours we pulled into my cousins' Tuscan Village Estate. (Well, a condo named Bellagio in San Jose.) Mid seconds after our tires hit a speed bump, Stink vomits all over his blankets, pillows and favorite Snoopy Doll.
I'm telling my cousin it's "car sickness" and we're going to our bed and breakfast in Monterrey even if it means Stink is in HER bed up chucking his breakfast for two days.
On that note, I aim not to blog for two days as I relax, sleep and eat with my husband.
However, since God tends to laugh at all those who make plans, I'll probably check in with you tomorrow as I'll ultimately feel too guilty to leave a sick child with my cousin.
And I am sad for him, of course. But J.C. on a pogo stick dancing Turkey in the Straw - .d damnit, what does a mama have to doto get a vacation in Parent Town?
Pray, cross fingers, whatever... for little Stink and little moi---(and for those of you without vacations who don't feel sorry for me, believe me, it's my first in a while and I, as do you, friggin' deserve one! If this one is canceled, between you and me, I'm going to be deathly sick on Thursday and Friday of this week. I will be holed up in my room drinking decaf and catching up on celebrity haircuts through You Tube. Anybody have a great suggestion for a faux vomit?)