OK, so when I say full recovery...

... I was underestimating the length of the rest of the day.

Felix woke up from an hour's nap, around 3pm, and yikes! did he not feel well. He shrieked and shrieked, obviously feeling the "fussiness" that the Doctor warned me about. I, foolishly, assumed that in a house with three kids, one not quite three years old, there would still be some infant's Tylenol kicking around, so I didn't sweat it.

Big mistake. Huge.

There was no infant's formula, and as my Doctor expressly forbid the use of any other product, I was stuck. O was napping, I was the lone adult in the house, and Gary Drug was taunting me from two blocks away.

I was 6pm, yes, three hours later, by the time I was able to get to the drug store, by which time my son was a whole case of baskets. The Tylenol did its belated magic, and Felix was able to calm down, and even smile before the time came to pack it in and return to suburbia at 7.

He had a rough evening, and finally gave up at 9:30, crashing in my lap after a feeding, drooling a little on his stripey pajamas.