8-22-02, Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb
The Playing Hooky Game
By Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features
School
started last week, and my youngest son is feverishly at work- hard at work at
trying to play hooky. Like his oldest brother before him, my little six-year-old
does NOT like waking up in the morning. And unlike my middle son; the social
aspects of the school day do NOT outweigh the early risings and
"boring" academic time during class. By day two of class, my youngster
had already decided that enough was enough- it doesn't help that he can already
read and do math easily- it was time to spend a little quality time back at home
with ole mom.
I
have to hand it to my son. He is pretty good at the set up- the second day of
school, he came home and shook his head when I asked him how school had been.
"Not so good, Mom." He croaked.
"Why
wasn't it good?" I asked.
"Well,
just let me say that I had a general feeling of wooziness throughout the whole
day."
Now,
I am not making this up. The child actually said that he had a 'general feeling
of wooziness throughout the whole day.' I might have been worried- a bit- if he
hadn't continued.
"And,"
he said, "my left eye blurred in and out of focus; my knees suffered great
growing pains which hurt me terribly, and I think I AM GETTING A COLD."
I
stared at him. He looked to be the picture of health; bright glowing skin, razor
sharp black eyes, good muscle tone- I must have looked dubious, because then he
threw in his ace in the hole:
"I
think I threw up a little bit in my mouth during recess."
"Are
you okay?" (I know, but I had to ask- what kind of mother does not even
acknowledge such a dire sounding illness?)
"Ummmmmmmm....."
he climbed into my arms. "Well, no. I am sorry, but I don't think I'll be
able to go to school tomorrow."
"OH
MY GOSH!" My oldest son, who had been the original king of all
illnesses in his day, had been listening with disgust to my youngest's list of
complaints. "YOU ARE NOT SICK! And if you think Mom is going to let you
stay home from school; you had better guess again! All the other moms in the
world probably have you in the hospital by now- but not our mom- you can bet
SHE'LL make you go to school."
I
had to laugh at his tirade. "If I let you two stay home every time you said
you didn't feel good; I'd have to dish out the dough for a home school program
because you'd never go to school."
"That's
not true." My oldest scowled. "There were some times when you sent me
to school when I was REALLY, truly sick; but you didn't believe me!"
"Ever
hear the story of the little boy who cried SICK?" I asked.
“That's
the little boy who cried WOLF!" My youngest intervened.
"I
don't know why you guys don't want to go to school." My middle son piped
in. "School is fun! I love it!"
"Kiss
up!" My oldest shot back at his brother. "Brown noser!"
My
youngest, realizing that the focus of the conversation had left his various
aches and pains, and that he was coming perilously close to being ignored,
whipped up a moan. "I think the wooziness is getting WORSE!” He whined.
"I am QUITE sure that what I need is to spend a day at home with you,
mom."
Now
listen. I love my kids a lot. And if they were really, awfully, truly, sick, I
would love nothing more than to spend a day comforting and healing them back to
health. But from where I was sitting, the only illness we have on a regular
basis around this household is HOOKY FEVER, and if I didn't nip it in the bud;
we'd have a raging epidemic on our hands. "You are going to school." I
announced, in my sternest, most seriously Mommy voice I could muster. "Your
wooziness is just because you are tired."
"Told
you so." My oldest lobbed at my youngest.
"But....
but.... what about the growing pains in my knees?" My son asked.
"And what about..... the throw up in my mouth?"
I
assured him that both were most likely symptoms of the great illness of wanting
to stay home from school, and that no amount of rest or medicine would be
likely to cure him.
"Okay."
He said, fiercely staring at me. "But when I am sent home from school for
being really, really sick; then you'll be sorry."
I
told him that I certainly would be and then began mentally planning my day out-
a day blessedly free of interruptions by little boys.