The Price of Celebrating
My wife got an emergency call from C’s school yesterday. It seems the big guy was pale and wheezing and sitting in the school office under observation. He has a cold right now and used to have asthma, so this is something we take very seriously. She hurried over as fast as she could, only to find him sitting and happily chatting with a school administrator.
Momma being momma, she put her hands on her hips.
“I don’t get it,” the school administrator said. “He’s rosy-cheeked and happy now, but he was pale before, and the breathing! You should have heard his breathing.”
He looked down at his feet. “I’m sick,” he said in a weak voice. Suddenly, his breath was rattling in his chest and he was clearly laboring to suck in air. His momma took him by the hand and they left.
As they passed through the doors of the school, he tilted his head back, smiled at the sky, and let out a mighty triumphant “Ha!”
After a brief stop at home, during which he looked the picture of health, he went to gymnastics and had a great time.
This morning after breakfast, however, he performed his horrible breathing trick. “Daddy,” he wheezed. “I don’t know if I can go to school.”
We lectured him about the dangers of pretending to be sick.
You know, the sad thing is that he probably would have gotten away with it today, if it weren’t for the “Ha!”