Well, we're home. Came home Sunday, after it looked like his jaundice was improving. Had a follow-up blood test this morning, and then the first pediatrician's visit, where it was confirmed that he was definitely on Ye Olde Road to Recoverie. Yay! If it hadn't been, we would have had to put him back under the lights, like he was some sort of exotic orchid. My son, a hothouse flower no more. Here he is undergoing treatment, where they forced him to wear goggles resembling those of Spaceman Spiff:
It's not a look I approve of for him. Which means he'll be wild about it when he's fifteen.
At any rate, I've also discovered my sense of time is totally skewed. Blink, it's three hours later. Of course, I was awake in the middle of last night changing and feeding the little guy, so that might have had something to do with the distortion. Or it just could be our new favorite activity:
Clearly babies have mysterious powers to warp spacetime.