Brody‘s wife vomited 17 times last night because of this stomach virus ripping through our cul-de-sac commune. That beat my record of seven. In third place is my wife with six. Just behind her, almost medaling, is my daughter Gabriella with five.
What disturbs me more? The voracity of this illness and the audacious inconvenience of it attacking our families while we’re on the road each weekend? Or the fact that I’m now ranking those I love by the number of times they toss their cookies in a single day? Both are equally troubling I suppose.
Brody and I are on our way to California this morning.