Sounds like they Meyers have had their fill of bugs and whatnot, but it doesn’t take triplets to have a sick house, oh no.  Shannon and  I have been fighting various colds, stomach bugs, and energy-sapping whatevers for the past few weeks, but Connor’s gotten away more or less unscathed, with nothing worse than some moderate stuffiness.  Until today.

Two words: projectile vomit.  Of yogurt.  I’m not sure he’ll ever touch the stuff again.  For that matter, me neither.  Really, really, really gross.  I just hope he’s feeling better tomorrow.  He was able to keep down some milk at bedtime, and his energy was better this evening than it was this afternoon, so I think he’s on the mend.  Still, though.  Ewwww.

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