As with all grand adventures we Griswold's take, our adventure to San Diego got off to a roaring start.
A few days before we were to leave, Elliott seemed a little off. Sort of sick, bad cough, the usual for him. Because of the trip, Ross took both boys to the doctor on the Saturday before we left. Both got a clean bill of health - Elliott it seems was reacting to having his 6 year old molars coming in and Wyatt was fine.
By Sunday night, even though it had only been 24 hours since going to the doctor, we realized Wyatt was not fine. On Monday afternoon we were back at the doctor with moderately tragic results for the little chickadee....two ear infections and a mild case of croup.
Why does this kid get sick every single time we want to go anywhere?
The next three days were completely miserable. My sweet lovable little boy forgot all about that stuff and became a screaming meanie - the three worst days of my parenting experience with him. He literally followed me around the house screaming. Forgot all the words he knows, couldn't ask or tell. Just blood curdling screams.
And of course, we were leaving on vacation.
Wednesday was a trying day. We got the rental van, picked up Elliott from school, ate lunch, loaded up and hit the road. Much to the chagrin of the screaming banshee in the back seat. Of our 6 hour drive to Las Vegas on the first day of our vacation, that child of mine easily screamed for 3 hours. We hit major weather (white out snow, and torrential rain) and road delays in Southern Utah and were pretty stressed out. But, by the time we got to Vegas and loaded up on chicken fingers though, Captain Crazy had calmed down enough to fall right to sleep. In a queen bed with his dad.
The other kid was in a queen with me.
I don't recommend it. Head butts to the gut all night long.
The next day we got up, listened to children whining about the inadequate offerings at the hotel breakfast, and were on our way (a bit fearfully mind you) to San Diego.