I grew up in a home full of people who turned into big, whiny crybabies when sick. And I am a proud card-carrying member of the sick baby club.

I loved being sick as a kid. It meant holing up in my parents’ huge bed while they were at work, full control of the TV remote and meals in bed.

And best of all, it meant endless attention given to my infinite grimaces, moans and whines. A deep sigh was sure to bring a kiss on the forehead. A loud enough cough earned me another day at home watching “Brady Bunch” reruns and “The Price Is Right.”