We got back from Kansas late Monday night, and by Tuesday around noon, Mitchell was sick. The only symptoms were a fever and absolute exhaustion, so I have no idea what he had, but that poor kid was feeling it. His fever broke late Wednesday night, but Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were spent throwing giant, crazy, uncontrollable fits about the most minor things, like a blanket covering that toe that he didn’t want covered.
So finally, Sunday morning, he woke up cheery. My baby boy was back. Just in time for Rosie to catch it. She was sick exactly the same amount of time he was and absolutely refused to be put down.
My poor, poor babies.