Diagnosis

While I was home grabbing a quick sandwich at lunchtime, my kids' school called. My son was throwing up. Could I please come get him?

Luckily, my sister is visiting. I picked him up and brought him home. He didn't seem too sick. A little shaky. No fever. I tucked him into bed and went back to work, telling my sister to call me if things took a downward turn.

While I was gone, my sister used her crack Aunt detective skills to produce this confession:

"Well . . . my friends and I were having a contest to see who could eat their lunch the fastest . . ."

Would that all problems were that easy to diagnose.