Hey, bud. Been meaning to talk to you about this for a while. I've noticed that an awkward, unspoken rule has formed between us. Like you hold back when sharing concerns about little Timmy. Damn, that kid is cute. Have you met his father yet? Kidding.

You mention typical bumps and bruises sometimes, but you're quick to get off the subject, because "it's nothing compared to what you go through with Charlie and diabetes," you say.

It's true; it's not easy managing Charlie's diabetes. But you're allowed to be exhausted because you were up all night with the baby even though he doesn't have diabetes.

You're allowed to be worried over a rash or a bee sting or an especially peculiar smelling fart for that matter even though your child doesn't have diabetes.

I want to hear about it. I want to hear all about it.

In turn, I find myself not telling you everything about Charlie. I feel like you must be so tired of my complaining.

So you don't talk about your son and I don't talk about mine. It's not good. It's not a healthy friendship.

Gosh, I hope this didn't stem from the time I called Timmy a wussy because he was afraid to get his rubella vaccination. Coming over and dumping a year's supply of Charlie's syringes into Timmy's crib at midnight was wrong. I apologized for that. I was just trying to make a point (pardon the pun).

And I certainly hope you're still not mad because I fed Timmy a melted cherry Starburst-glazed donut topped with Watermelon Pop Rocks, Jawbreakers, lime jelly Chuckles, Sugar Daddy shavings and peanut butter.

I had no idea peanut butter was bad for a 14 month old.

I'm sorry!

Sorry for wanting Charlie to sit beside your son and experience the vicarious enjoyment of sugar!

So sorry to put your son and his amazingly operational pancreas through such torture! You've got some nerve! Do you have any idea how hard it is?

Some friend you are!

Carey