Wife and I took our children with us on a ski trip to New Hampshire when they were tiny. We had adjoining rooms, and my wife's sister stayed in one room with the kids so we could enjoy some alone time. Fancy, all-inclusive, place. We're not sure what it was, but after one fantastic day of skiing we both woke up in the middle of the night puking like neither of us had ever puked before. Spent two days with not enough energy to even get out of bed, while the sister patiently baby sat.
We finally started driving home, and perhaps fifteen minutes down the road my son (maybe 3?) started projectile vomiting all over the backseat. I had to lift him out and set him naked in a snow drift while we cleaned the car as best we could. The thing we most remember is when we stopped the car and opened the back door, he was in his car seat surveying the puke all over the place, and he just said, "Dirty!" as if he was providing us with new information. And that he was laughing while standing naked in the snow.
To this day I cannot eat stuffed grape leaves.
