It was late. As in, kids all tucked in, kitchen cleared, computers powered down, sitting on the sofa kind of late. I was writing a letter to my friend (sorry Sara – I may never get to finish that epistle at this rate) and Kevin was watching (with his eyes closed) some M. Night ShimmyWhoWho movie on television. And that’s when we heard the cry. “Mommyyyyyyyyyyy.” (Hmmm. Now they call my name. Interesting.) We discovered Mosely in the bathroom, over the toilet, taking care of her little sick self. We wondered if Mosely had managed to make it to the bathroom before the sickness began. But evidence to the contrary…