On the Puke Train to Pukeville

I'm not saying it was a hard day.

I'm just saying that when the first vomit cannon fires at 8:30am, and the second one goes off at 9:15, you ask yourself: "What am I doing in Wyoming?"

Thank goodness for the combined powers of Super Grandma (who activated her network of informants to determine the appropriate treatment for infant car sickness) and Super Dad (who located a grocery stocking towels, wipes, Dramamine, warm Coke, paper towels, bottled water, and Febreze in a town where one horse would have been a big step up).

Stay tuned for photos of the toys Nana had all stored up for Iain. Some of them were made for The Dad by The Grandad and The Great-Grandad. They're gorgeous, and Iain loves them. In fact, he's in bed talking to one right now ("Evah! And evah and nevah!" No, I have no idea what that means.)