“He didn’t sleep well last night,” my sister said, passing off the baby to my open arms. She didn’t need to tell me. I could tell by the faint smudges under her eyes, the baby’s unnatural disinterest in his breakfast. He didn’t whimper at being handed to his auntie, but he didn’t greet me with his usual new-toothed grin. Sister reached for coffee cups, one for her and one for my brother-in-law, who shuffled in with a similar face. “I don’t think he’s been feeling well,” she explained. Mom came in after me, and reached for the baby’s forehead. “He feels a little warm.” “And it explains why he’s been…