Hey sweetie,

I really don’t want to go to the movies tonight.  I am just too pregnant and I will spend the whole time crawling over you to pee. I can’t sit on the ends because the floor lights are too distracting, plus my leg will go numb and then I will complain to you about it for at least 80% of the movie, and then you’ll bitch the whole way home about how you just spent $8o for a movie you barely got to see and food I didn’t share with you, and then we’ll stop talking for the rest of the night, I’ll grow bitter, you’ll continue to spiral down into your anger, and we’re just that much closer to bringing this baby into a broken home.

Can we please just order Chinese and watch a movie at home with our own toilet?

No pressure from me or the fetus who totally already looks like you, and I swear I thought I heard him gurgle da-da in there this morning.

Love

brittany

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