Dear Son,

Thank you for not getting me debilitatingly sick (yet).  I mean, you did pass on to me this lovely chest-weighs-a-thousand-and-two-pounds thing on to me.  And you certainly passed on the need to hack up a lung every 5 minutes, which inevitably led to a sore throat from said hacking.  Oh, and we can’t forget the 17 gallons of mucous that you so lovingly shared with your Momma.  I am pretty sure Daddy would like to thank you for these things as well.  Luckily (and this is in all honesty), I haven’t had a day where I actually feel sick.  I mean, I’ve had a few hours here and there over the last few days where I don’t feel amazing, but I haven’t been down and out, need my Mommy to hold me sick.  In actuality, you, Bug, have only had maybe two days of that.  Two days out of the two weeks that you have been coughing that chest rattling, mucous filled cough.  I am still waiting for the day that you puke your guts out.  I know it’s coming.

I love you baby boy… and for the record… as payment for this little note to you, I’ll probably end up in bed very soon puking my guts out.

Momma