It happened. Jack's summer fun finally caught up with him and he got "the sickies".
After giving 150% everyday sans a nap since school got out, his little body just couldn't take it anymore. He started complaining of a headache, which seemed to go away with Ibuprofen, so we thought that is all it was. We continued on with our weekend plans with a trip up to my in-law's cabin. As we packed up the car, I did have a gut feeling that was telling me that maybe going wasn't such a good idea. I should have listened to it because as soon as we got to the cabin, Jack felt worse. I'll spare the gruddy details, but they do involve the word projectile. Anyway, he then got worse by the hour. We decided to just head back home the next day because it's no fun to be sick and it's darn right awful to be sick and not be at home in your own bed (even though he loves his Grandma's cuddles)
The one thing he requested to do before we left was go on a pontoon ride. We didn't make it very far before he requested to back home. Poor buddy!
By this afternoon (48 hour later), Jack ate two grilled cheese and apple sandwiches for lunch and was running around the house playing with Owen. Two classic signs that Jack is on the mend.