Friday, August 31, 2012


Um, he's sick. My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who know's this kid who's going with the girl who saw C1 pass out at 31 flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.

Awe, Christopher's first sick day. He's really just got a bad cold. But the boy knows how to milk it for all it's worth. I'm pretty sure he inherited his momma's uncanny ability to barf on command. Yes, I'm serious. It's a talent of mine, and I'm pretty sure C1 got the genes.

I remember when I was in the third grade and we had a big placement test that day. I was passing out the pencils to the other students and thinking of how terrified I was to take the test. The only possible solution to get out of taking the test was to be sick. So I got sick. It worked, and my mom picked me up from school an hour later. Sorry, Mom.

But now I think it's payback time. On Christopher's "sick day," he woke up with an upset stomach. We sat him down on the couch (already having decided that he wasn't going to school) when he asked for a glass of milk. I told him not yet, that if his tummy was upset, milk probably wasn't the best thing for him. I offered him a glass of water. Two minutes later I was helping him lean over the toilet to release dinner from the night before. You wanna know what he said to me when he was done hurling? "Can I have some milk now?" He said "now" like it was to insinuate, "See what's gonna happen if you don't let me have some milk?" But, being the horrible mother I am, I didn't give him any milk.

Twenty minutes later after B fixed Christopher's cereal and banana breakfast, Christopher complained that he wanted Pop-Tarts. Again, trying to win the 'Best Mommy of the Year' award, I told him no, that Pop-Tarts would only upset his stomach more.

He barfed.


And before I can even wipe his mouth off with a towel he says, "Can I have my Pop-Tarts, now?"


I am not kidding.

The kid isn't even five-years-old and he's a natural Ferris Bueller. I'm sure one day I'll give in to his sympathy pleas. But as a parent, you gotta stand your ground on the first occasion - or they'll walk all over you from then on. I will say that on Thursday morning I went upstairs and put a Pop-Tart packet on his pillow before he woke up. So I guess his guilt trip worked... a little.

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