The Boy fell asleep in the car on the way home from lunch after his basketball game (translation: he’s probably getting sick).
He quite willingly went to bed when we got home (translation: he’s definitely sick).
The Wife is napping with Sophie.
Noah, as you saw, is guarding the bedroom door.
Shasta is on my bed (his favorite spot in the house apparently).
I’m drinking chocolate milk from a Transformers glass and watching Poirot.
Not everything is right but everything is alright.