he be illin'.

My little boy is ill. We all returned home from a long (for many reasons) Easter weekend in Buffalo (yes, we did those long overnight drives -- there and back -- and he slept most of the time, thanks to a brilliant suggestion from my better half), only to discover early this morning that the little boy has some sort of stomach bug, or is suffering some sort of food poisoning, or something. I know that the usual seasonal flu-type of thing is going around, but I'd think that his chances of contracting something like this would be lessened somewhat by the very fact that he has essentially no interaction with any other little kids, since he doesn't go to daycare. We did see his little cousin this weekend (my brother's 19-month-old daughter), who's supposedly well into an antibiotic regimen for some sort of malady (the details of which are presently sketchy), so there's one potential vector. Another theory is that he could've eaten baby food from a "bad batch," which is not unheard of. At any rate, he's sick, and none of us are happy about it. I'm sure it's something benign, but I still have those new-parent nerves.

I hope he gets better soon.