Tough Call, Again

This morning Christopher started complaining of a headache and stomachache just before we left for school. Again with those sick-kid decisions -- when to stay home? when to send him to school?

I took him to school and told him to give it a try, maybe he'd feel better soon. I knew he wasn't just being a little third-grade slacker because his best friend was back today from two weeks in Florida (don't get me started on the envy!) and Christopher really wanted to be in school to see him.

So when he called me at work at 9:35 to say he was really miserable and wanted to come home, I knew he was serious.

At the time, I was writing notes on Chapter Nine of Lord of the Flies (Simon gets killed! Oh, sorry, did I spoil it for you?) on the board for my English 2201 class. I quickly finished the notes, checked in with Boss Tim, and wrote assignments on the board for the rest of my classes. (That's the joy of teaching in adult ed ... no dealing with messy substitutes; just leave work for your mature, self-directed students to complete on their own. Or, you know, NOT!!)

As I explained the sitch to my student their eyes grew misty with nostalgic remeniscences. "Yeah, I used to hate that, when I said I was sick and Mom would say, Go to school anyway! You'll feel better soon!"

"Or when I'd say I was sick to my stomach and she'd say, Eat your breakfast! It'll get better!" ... a line I had used this very morning.

I explained to them that from the parental side of the line the decision of what warrants a sick day was not always as straightforward as it might seem. Then I drove back to Chris's school to get my pale, sad-looking little boy.

He's sleeping now, and anytime Christopher voluntarily goes to sleep, you can pretty much bet he's sick. I'm using the time to try to catch up on some writing and reading. Making the sick-day call can be one of the tougher roles in parenting, but there's no doubt whatsoever that this is a sick little boy: