Isaac has spent the last two nights hacking violently in his sleep. We saw it all coming, and took him to the doctor Friday to confirm/deny that Isaac has his first cold (CONFIRMED). All the basic rules apply; try to make sure he rests, watch his temperature/eating/pooping habits (the big 3 of parenting a newborn, btw), and keep him as comfortable as possible. He's totally fine, but that pathetic cough is heartwrenching. It's like hearing a kitten yowling outside in the winter. There's not a whole lot you can do about it though, and honestly, with the exception of one tantrum yesterday around 6pm, he's been smiling lethargically through the whole affair.
In related news, I appear to be getting sick, as well. Shannon has apparently decided to act as our own Typhoid Mary, only she doesn't cook. The worst part about getting sick now is that since Isaac is handling it so well, there's a direct guy-to-guy toughness comparison going on. Consequently, I CANNOT MILK THIS SICKNESS FOR FAVORS! That's the best part about being sick! "I'd get two McDoubles, a large fry with BBQ sauce, and a meat coke (inside joke) myself, but I'm DYING!" Used to be, I could pull that stunt once or twice per serious cold. Now I can't because Shannon can just throw Ike's toughness back in my face. DAMMIT!
Oh, and this stuff is pretty great, especially with that whole "all baby meds being recalled" thing.