Tonight Jack's cub scout den had their "go and see" activity. It's one of the requirements for moving on from a Tiger Cub into a Wolf Cub. His den got to go to a newspaper office to see how a paper was put together. From the time he got off of the bus though he said he wasn't feeling well. His stomach hurt and he just wanted to lay on the couch. I kind of chalked it up to carsickness. Apparently today on the bus they got to "switch" with the big kids and sit in the back of the bus while the older kids sat in the front. Jack said it was super bumpy and gave him a stomachache. He is totally prone to carsickness so I figured that was it. He said he still really wanted to go to the newspaper office though, so off we went. He was OK until we got there and he stepped out of the van and proceeded to throw up all over the sidewalk (and a little on my feet). But then he said he felt GREAT and still please please while crying all over the place couldn't we go in? Even though I knew it was a bad idea and at this point was thinking it really maybe was not carsickness I relented and in we went. Don't you hate that? That feeling with your kids that even as you are doing something that you just know you have made the wrong decision. You just keep moving ahead with the wrong decision with that knot in your gut telling you that you have made a mistake. It didn't help that this newspaper office was in a super old building that smelled like old papers and printing chemicals. As we walked up the 4,030 steps into the top of the building Jack just kept kept paler and paler. I was holding onto his jacket and had it at the ready, poised to catch throw up in it. I just kept thinking to myself "please don't throw up on the equipment. Please don't throw up on the old archived newspapers from 1914." And then there was the nagging suspicion that if this wasn't carsickness that we were at that very moment infecting 6 other little boys with some throwupy virus right before Easter weekend. After about 10 minutes which felt like 400 Jack conceded that he really didn't feel well and wanted to go home. We were down those 4,030 steps in a flash and out of there. Now he is laying on the couch with a bucket, sipping flat coke and watching television. I am thinking no school tomorrow.
On the up side, unlike my previous post, he is acting like a complete angel. A sick angel, but an angel nonetheless.