Two nights ago, it was Soren--and not Carl!--that woke us up screaming in the night. He had thrown up in his crib. He was sick and frightened. I carried him downstairs, still crying, for a bath while Scott cleaned up his bedding. I held him close and kept talking to him calmly but he was inconsolable. He kept sobbing while I peeled off his sticky clothes and put him in the water. I soaped Soren up and rinsed him off. He cried. I took him out of the bath. He kept crying. I dried him off, with the usually laughter-inducing fanfare. He continued crying. I was about to put on his diaper when he threw up again. Back into the bath. Scott brought down new pajamas. I ran another bath. Soren wailed. 15 minutes later, Soren was clean, warmly-dressed, sitting on the couch between his attentive parents, and still crying. It was 3:30 am and I didn't know how else to console him. After a moment, Scott noticed that Soren's cries were actually a wailed rececitation of the alphabet....