Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 3

08-19-06
Dear Trojan…
I know you are probably sick of hearing from me, but you should get used to it. Tonight, as I was washing dishes, my bride and I were taking about…cake.

I like cake. A lot.

Anyway, for some reason, the word “cake” sounded “gross” to her. Not cake itself. Just the word. I thought I was being cute and started laughing and saying the word “cake” over and over. She told me to stop, but, c’mon, I was just saying “cake.”

She threw up, Trojan. She ran out of the kitchen and hurled.

“Cake.”

Say it with me: “cake.” Say it five times, fast.

Funny, right?

And yet another thing you’ve taken from me… just by being the evil bastards you inherently are.

*****

09-01-06
Dear Trojan… I think she’s coming out of the proverbial woods. It seems the worst part of pregnancy is over.

I’m sure there’ll be many, many pitfalls between now and the due date (and I’m sure I just jinxed the rest of my day), but she’s been in a good mood now for 27 hours, 16 minutes and 41 seconds… that’s a record, I think.

She did "vurp" yesterday whilst changing a wet diaper, but I’ve done that before, too.

I still hate you.

09-01-06
UPDATE: THE MOOD LASTED 11 MORE MINUTES. THEN I ASKED “HEY, HOW WAS YOUR DAY?” BAD MOVE.

THE PAST 19 HOURS AND 14 MINUTES HAVE BEEN NIGHTMARISH. HATE, HATE, HATE… YOU, YOU, YOU.

*****

09-14-06
Dear Trojan…

“Oh, look! What a little miracle…”

(Here, we would’ve posted a picture of a sonogram if we were that technically savvy.)

Blah, blah, blah.

YOU did this to me!