Faker, Faker Belly-Aker

Let's just say that your child comes to you early in the morning before school complaining of one ailment or another.  You take their temperature, you determine in that it's all in their head.  You try talk to them and figure out why they want to avoid school that day, and the response you get back is a pitiful, "No really.  I just feel bad.  No really!"

At first you, while thinking of your own past attempts to stay home from school when you were a child, hesitate and think, "What can it hurt to let them stay home?"  After all you admire their adept faking skills.

But quickly you shake your head no and determine that they are faking.  It's just allergies, or they're just super hungry because they refused to eat their dinner the night before, or they're just tired because they snuck in some television in the middle of the night.  So you send them off to school knowing once they're there, they will magically feel better. You are proud of yourself for making them get their oh so important education.  If feeling super good about your decision, you label yourself Mother of the Year.

Once they're on the bus, however, there's still that one little nagging feeling in the back of your mind that perhaps this time, well this time your child is not faking.  You imagine while they are at school they pass out and get taken to the hospital by ambulance.  Everyone looks at you as that mother, the one who doesn't pay attention to their children at all, the one who rather spend time blogging than nursing a sick kid, and the one who should surely be paying better attention because she doesn't even have a job other than taking care of their kids.

You imagine the disappointment in your husband's eyes as he watches over his sick child at death's door. You imagine your friends promising their husbands that they will never let their child sleep at your house again.  You imagine your mother scolding you and asking, "Was it something that I did?  Did I make you such a horrible mother?"

Because of this nagging feeling you will wait at home nervously all day for the possible and probably inevitable phone call from the school nurse, the same nurse who chased you down the hall the year before yelling hysterically, "Call us if it's the Swine Flu!" thus tagging your kid the Swine Flu Kid even though he never actually had swine flu.  She will say that your child has indeed thrown up in the trash can and no, there were no adult witnesses.  She will get snotty with you when you dare to suggest that your child is faking his illness.  So you put yourself, you who have not showered yet even though it's after lunch, in your car and go up to the school to pick up your child.

And on the way home from school you console yourself by knowing that even though your child has figured out how to work the system, you in fact still have one thing on your side.  You have hidden all of the television remote controls, video games, and treats.  Sure they get to come home early from school.  But they're not going to have any fun while they're there.

~~Mrs. McGillicutty

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