I got a call from The Boy’s teacher today. She didn’t leave a message, but I called her right back.
“Did the front office call you?” she asked.
“No, I just saw that you had called. Is everything okay?”
“No, I don’t think C is feeling well.”
My heart sank. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“Well, after lunch, he asked to go to the bathroom. But when he finished there, he threw up.”
Images of my child vomiting all over himself immediately came to mind, and I told her I would be on my way. After a quick call to Cute Husband and a pop into my boss’s office to let her know I needed to leave early, I was en route to The Boy’s school.
When I arrived, The Boy wasn’t in the front office, where the sick kids usually are kept. I went to his classroom, and he was in the back of the classroom while the other kids were watching Dora the Explorer. Mrs. G explained that she had him put his head down while the other kids had movie time.
“Hey, buddy,” I said gently when I approached him.
He was very mellow. “Hi, Mommy,” he replied.
“How are you doing?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
I picked him up (literally; he wasn’t wearing shoes) and took him outside. Once we left the building, he asked to sit down on the tiny park bench along the walkway. And suddenly, his behavior took a complete 180° turn.
The entire way home, he chatted and sang in the car. Once we got home, he wanted to play, and when I told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to play but needed to rest because he was sick, he pouted and declared, “It’s no fun being sick!”
Yes, that’s kind of the whole idea.