Thanks. This is awesome. Didn’t you get the memo that parents are supposed to protect their kids, not endanger them? No, you probably didn’t. There’s a lot of stuff in this world you don’t get, isn’t there? You arrogant—for no good reason, by the way—you arrogant pair of douches. I’m here fighting for my life and I’m thirteen years old. Again, thanks.

This preventable disease that’s killing me pisses me off, of course. But it’s a disease; it’s doing what it’s supposed to do. Too bad you couldn’t do what you’re supposed to.

I hope you’re proud. It looks like my friend Timmy (you know, my best friend?) might have been infected, even though he was vaccinated, because apparently I’m host to a particularly virulent strain, so thanks for that, too. Yay! Timmy will survive, I’m told, but I’m sure he and his parents would like to share their sentiments with you as well. Look at you! So popular!

I get to cut all this school but won’t enjoy even a second of it. I can eat whatever, but have no appetite.

I do have an awesome fever, however. So I can lie here with ten blankets and still feel freezing cold. Oh, and I learned a new word, “febrile.” Way cool. That will come in handy on the SATs, if I ever get to take them. You guys are the best!

If I survive, I’m certain to take a year or two to recover. I’m so stoked about all the soccer goals I won’t have to score, all the basketball shots I won’t have to make, and all the other things you’re providing me relief from. Also, I will likely get to maintain my virginity much longer than I would have otherwise—maybe I’ll even get to die a virgin! I can’t thank you enough!

Sometimes, as I’m writhing in bed, I try to understand your thinking back when I was a toddler and someone asked you if you wanted to have me vaccinated. As the “bonebreaking” pains set in, I think illness must have seemed like just a possibility, and a distant one at that. What are the odds? you probably thought. You were concerned with more immediate problems, like where you’d left the fifth of whiskey. Now a normal life is just a distant possibility for me, so you really did a great job working the odds!

But should I die from this entirely avoidable malady, I hope you can ease your pain by producing another child. I hope you’ll allow this one to be vaccinated. That way, he or she can grow up to reach the age of majority, unlike me, and never attend a Thanksgiving or any other family get-together again.

More on Contemporary Family Life:
A Present for Parents of Young Children
Parents Use Big Data to Engage More Meaningfully with Children
Take Your Lazy-Ass Son to Work Day