Ken crawled into bed with me early in the morning. “Mommy, I don’t feel good,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked. I sat up and felt his forehead. He didn’t have a fever but he looked really uncomfortable.

“My tummy really hurts,” Ken whined, rubbing it again.

“Are you going to be sick?” I asked, looking around for the nearest trash can.

“No. It just hurts,” Ken said. He whimpered and started to ...