Good Morning, Sunshine!

Iain is sick. I'm not sure what the problem is (yet) but he threw up. Spectacularly. Publicly. It was awesome, in the traditional sense of that word.

Still, he provides much to be proud of. He is truly our son. Note:

1. His excellent sense of dramatic timing. He waited until Mother and I were pulling into the restaurant (the new brunch place that I've been wanting to try) with Linus mere yards behind us, before he became sick.

2. His paternally-linked ability to hold on until it's safe to let go. Rather than throw up in our brand new car, he waited until Grandmother lifted him up and out, then puked on Mama and the parking lot. Nice work, son.

3. His outstanding disposition. He puked, so that's not ideal. And Linus went in alone to have brunch and read a book. We headed home. But Iain's not going to spend the drive home screaming, no sir. Because he's a nice boy. Instead, he cried a little for about 10 blocks, then conked out in his seat. He slept all the way home and is asleep in his crib now.

To recap: being puked on when one is expecting a nice eggs benedict is not the best. However, even when sick Iain is pretty great.

Now we just have to wait and see. Was it a one-time thing? Will he develop a fever or wake up in a fine fettle?