...seen 'em all. Yes, this is the day we're to go to the Grand Canyon. And it's not the threat of rain nor the threat of snow in the mountains that has us changing our plans. It's the high probability of additional vomit showers that has us sticking closer to the hotel. What's that, you ask? First one boy and then the other returned everything they'd taken in Wednesday. At about midnight. Until about 1 a.m.
Folks, it's bad enough when they're sick on your own turf. But when they're sick in a hotel room? On the pullout bed, on the two queen size beds, all over the bathroom, and on their clothes? Indescribably worse. How'd you like to be the poor woman who had to bring us new bedding at 1 a.m.? Or, worse, how'd you like to be the poor woman who is going to have to shampoo the carpet and disinfect the bathroom today? I wonder what the proper tip is for that?
So, yeah, we're not nearly to the Grand Canyon, as was our plan by this time this morning. Instead, Daughter is drawing pictures of the waterfall outside our hotel room, and the two boys are watching a Tom & Jerry marathon. Whoo-hoo! Good times for all.
What am I most thankful for this morning? That the vomiting has stopped. And a happy Thanksgiving to you, too. [Hope I didn't ruin your appetite for lumpy gravy and mashed potatoes. I'll be steering clear of those today. Too visual a reminder of recent events.]