Real, or Really Faking?
So I think my sweet son is trying to pull one over on me but . . . it's so hard to tell!
His school called me today at 12:30. The secretary told me that he had a very low grade fever (99.2- which upon retrospect does NOT count), he was white as a sheet, and complained that his stomach hurt very badly. Well, she said all the right words to me, so I told her I needed to get some things taken care of in my classroom and I would be right there. 30 minutes later I show up to discover . . . a boy that is definitely NOT sick, but doing a great, Oscar winning, job of looking pitiful. I took him home because I did not want to be THAT mom that left her kid at school- only to have him puke all over the classroom 10 minutes later. Plus, that might be a little hard on his psyche to have me show up, look him over, and send him back to class- the first time. Next time I won't be quite as sensitive to his psyche. So when we get home I set him up in his bed- where there is no tv- only books to look at. I brought him a trashcan, juice, and a stack of books. Then left him in there- with the door shut so Alexa and I wouldn't disturb him. ;-) Two hours later I check on him and he says he feels much better, and wants to get up. I told him since he was so sick, he better just stay in bed, especially because I didn't want to worry about spreading germs.
I called Doug because I was at a parenting cross roads. We had a t-ball game tonight and it was against a team that if we beat would really improve our standing in the rankings. Technically if Andrew was too sick to be at school, he was too sick to play t-ball. I know this. But . . . the game and the standings . . . What a moral dilema. Plus, there's the whole issue of how much punishment is too much punishment? What if I was standing in front of Andrew telling him that he was too sick to play t-ball and his little face crumpled and he cried and cried and worried about his teammates and said all that laying in bed helped him? How could I face that? Doug suggests I talk to him and see what his response is to missing the game, if he seems really bummed we know he's not really sick. Well, the stinker says, "ok." After another hour, he decides he wants a snack- he's hungry. So I say, "Andrew, I am not sure you're telling me the truth about being sick. If you were really sick, you wouldn't want snacks or to get up and play. Go to room and think about whether you're being truthful with me." So he comes back after 10 minutes, "Mom, I lied. I am not hungry." Mmmm that's not the answer I was expecting. I was expecting/hoping for a dramatic profession that went like this: "Mom! I am soooooo sorry I was dishonest with you! I was not ill, I was fretful/anxious/despondent and needed to be in your presence!!!! Please forgive me this blemish upon my honest nature and we'll move past this!" If he had only made that profession I would have let him play t-ball. Alas, he kept to his story about being sick- and stayed home.
I hold true to my belief that he is not sick- he ate a HUGE dinner, danced around the kitchen while I was fixing it, sat in the kitchen and colored and played with Alexa, talked my ears off. Not sick kid characteristics. But maybe he wasn't quite right since he gladly accepted his no tv watching, laying in bed, doing nothing for 6 hours.
I'm afraid I'll never know the answer to this conundrum. I do know that I am getting texts from Doug that if Andrew were able to read them- would go to his grave feeling badly for not playing, even if he was on death's door. I'll just spare him this guilt and save it up for another time. ;-)
His school called me today at 12:30. The secretary told me that he had a very low grade fever (99.2- which upon retrospect does NOT count), he was white as a sheet, and complained that his stomach hurt very badly. Well, she said all the right words to me, so I told her I needed to get some things taken care of in my classroom and I would be right there. 30 minutes later I show up to discover . . . a boy that is definitely NOT sick, but doing a great, Oscar winning, job of looking pitiful. I took him home because I did not want to be THAT mom that left her kid at school- only to have him puke all over the classroom 10 minutes later. Plus, that might be a little hard on his psyche to have me show up, look him over, and send him back to class- the first time. Next time I won't be quite as sensitive to his psyche. So when we get home I set him up in his bed- where there is no tv- only books to look at. I brought him a trashcan, juice, and a stack of books. Then left him in there- with the door shut so Alexa and I wouldn't disturb him. ;-) Two hours later I check on him and he says he feels much better, and wants to get up. I told him since he was so sick, he better just stay in bed, especially because I didn't want to worry about spreading germs.
I called Doug because I was at a parenting cross roads. We had a t-ball game tonight and it was against a team that if we beat would really improve our standing in the rankings. Technically if Andrew was too sick to be at school, he was too sick to play t-ball. I know this. But . . . the game and the standings . . . What a moral dilema. Plus, there's the whole issue of how much punishment is too much punishment? What if I was standing in front of Andrew telling him that he was too sick to play t-ball and his little face crumpled and he cried and cried and worried about his teammates and said all that laying in bed helped him? How could I face that? Doug suggests I talk to him and see what his response is to missing the game, if he seems really bummed we know he's not really sick. Well, the stinker says, "ok." After another hour, he decides he wants a snack- he's hungry. So I say, "Andrew, I am not sure you're telling me the truth about being sick. If you were really sick, you wouldn't want snacks or to get up and play. Go to room and think about whether you're being truthful with me." So he comes back after 10 minutes, "Mom, I lied. I am not hungry." Mmmm that's not the answer I was expecting. I was expecting/hoping for a dramatic profession that went like this: "Mom! I am soooooo sorry I was dishonest with you! I was not ill, I was fretful/anxious/despondent and needed to be in your presence!!!! Please forgive me this blemish upon my honest nature and we'll move past this!" If he had only made that profession I would have let him play t-ball. Alas, he kept to his story about being sick- and stayed home.
I hold true to my belief that he is not sick- he ate a HUGE dinner, danced around the kitchen while I was fixing it, sat in the kitchen and colored and played with Alexa, talked my ears off. Not sick kid characteristics. But maybe he wasn't quite right since he gladly accepted his no tv watching, laying in bed, doing nothing for 6 hours.
I'm afraid I'll never know the answer to this conundrum. I do know that I am getting texts from Doug that if Andrew were able to read them- would go to his grave feeling badly for not playing, even if he was on death's door. I'll just spare him this guilt and save it up for another time. ;-)
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