Back home
Actually, we've been back home since Saturday. As soon as we got off the interstate we stopped by the house to pick up our mail, then drove straight to Megan's. Nothing cures the blues that can be brought on by a seven hour car trip like snuggling a newborn. And snuggle I did.
The trip was good. Henry had a cough and since we were sharing a room, neither of us got much sleep during the week. His only consolation was that as he was slowly feeling better, I caught his cold, then Dave called from California to say he'd gotten it, Thursday my mom caught it, then on Saturday morning my Dad was hacking away. The kid knows how to spread the love. I also think that the order in which people got sick is a demonstration of who was smooching on Henry when and how soon after we arrived.
I'm not sure if it was because he wasn't sleeping very well or if it was because he was testing to see if he could get away with a lot more at Grammy and Grandpa's house than he can at his own, but Henry was a bit of a holy terror. He was throwing fits left and right when we were hanging out at home, although when we were out and about, he was his usual chipper self. He tried it again the Sunday morning after we got back to the 'burg, this time complete with crazed leg kicking, and found himself right smack in the middle of fourteen thousand different kinds of trouble because by that point I'd had it. Since then he's been great. Should've done it sooner. Sorry Mom and Dad.