0.6 miles from this room, people are queueing up and eating Mickey pretzels and zipping through mountains.
Henry is sleeping in the bed next to me, his tummy dancing up and down with uncontrollable gurgles. The air conditioner in our hotel room won't turn on. It's clammy, still air we're breathing. He has some kind of stomach bug, and he hasn't left the hotel room today at all.
We were up early today to go into Disneyland for our early-entry morning, and he said he didn't feel well. I thought he was complaining that I dragged him from his bed at 5:45. He didn't make it out the door before barfing. He hasn't stopped since, and he's been doing the same every half hour or so. His skinny little body can't even keep down water or a Saltine.
Roo and I went to the park early this morning and we got on a bunch of rides before the crowds hit, but she was pretty quiet and sullen without her buddy. At lunch time I came back here and E and I switched places. I'm glad Roo is having a good time, but I feel so bad for my little man. I can't think of a worse time for a kid to be sick than on the last day of a Disneyland trip.