Son,

Please get out of me.

Not tonight. Because I have a load of towels in the wash and if I go into labor they will smell like post-Katrina New Orleans by the time anybody remembers to throw them in the dryer. Also your Grandma offered to babysit your big brother Chicken tomorrow night so Ryan and I can go to dinner and I'm looking forward to it. So not tonight, or tomorrow, until after dinner.

But please get out of me.

Anytime after tomorrow at like 8, 8:15, I'm wide open.

So to speak.

Love,

Mommy