Henry. Sick Again.

I picked Henry up from school and he was warm and somewhat colorless. On the way home he told me he is sick.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he replies.
"Honey, are you sick?"
"No,"
"Do you feel like you need to throw up?"
"Maybe not," he reports unconvincingly.
NOnonononono not in my car, I think.
"I want to go home." He says.
Yep.
At home:
"Does your tummy hurt?"
"Don't ask me that."
"Ok," I say.
"Don't put your eyes on me. Don't see me."
Oh for crying out loud.