Playing Hooky

10/09/07
This past Friday, Daniel learned the finer points of playing hooky from school. He woke up that morning complaining that he wasn't feeling well. I asked him what hurt and of course his answer was, "EVERYTHING!"

He even played it up a bit; laying on the sofa under a quilt, asking for an ice-bag for his head, moaning a bit, even putting on a scratchy voice. Well, needless to say, it totally fooled me. I called my mom & canceled lunch with her, called the doctor's office & left a message for the nurse to call me back and was preparing to head to the pharmacy. In the midst of all the calls I made, I also called his school to let them know that he wouldn't be there and not to worry.

Just as soon as I hung up the phone with the school, Daniel says,

"Mom, I have a 'profession' to make... I'm not really sick, I was faking it."

I got what I can only figure was a mean-looking scowl on my face and said,

"WHAT?! What do you mean you're faking it?"

Then Daniel, sensing he was treading on thin ice, put on the scratchy voice again, although, this time it wasn't nearly as convincing:

"Uhm, I mean, I am really sick Mom... I'm not faking it I was just kidding, haha."

"Suuuuuuure, Daniel... I think you're just playing hooky."

(scratchy voice again) "No, really! I am really si..." (normal voice) "Uh, what's playing hooky mean?"

After I told Dan what had happened, he was initially upset. But upon reflection, I think it may have been for my benefit. A little while later I heard him giving Daniel pointers on how to successfully play hooky. Including, DO NOT, under any circumstances, get out of bed unless you've really got to pee. Always stay under the blanket so you feel warm to the touch. Try not to talk much, cause Mommy will figure you out if you talk too much.

Hmmmm.... at least he didn't tell him the old oatmeal-in-the-toilet trick. Somehow, I suspect that one will appear one day in my near future.

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It made me start to wonder if my mom ever realized it when I was faking it. I'm sure she did, but it reminded me of one time that I let the cat out of the bag inadvertently. One day, in the second grade, I claimed I hurt my left arm and needed to stay home because it was "really hurting bad!" Since Mama had to work, she sent me to my grandmother's for the day.

My Grandma, wonderful caring soul she is, babied me like a newborn. Fixing my favorite sandwiches and serving me coke with a straw and bundling me up on her sofa with a warm blanket. Well when Mama came to get me, I'd forgotten which arm it was that "hurt really bad!" and totally blew it by coming out holding my RIGHT arm. Oooops. Oh well! Guess I wasn't as slick then as I thought I was. Personally I think Grandma knew all along, she just wanted to spend the day with me.