My youngest has had a run of missing school lately. First, he was sick, then we had a big sixtieth anniversary party for my parents, and then he was sick again.

The other morning, he showed me his big pitiful eyes when I asked why he wasn’t dressed yet. “Daddy,” he said, his voice so weak I could barely hear it. “My head really hurts.”

“You’re going to school anyway,” I said.

I know, I know. I’m a horrible parent, but I work for myself. I don’t get vacation days. All these days that he’s missing school are days that I’m missing work, and if I’m not working, I’m not getting paid.

He looked at me with his big sad eyes.

“I’m sorry it hurts,” I said, ” but you still have to go to school. Can I get you a glass of cold water? Sometimes that helps.”

“No,” he said, “it’s feeling better now.”  And he went off to get dressed.

Either that was the fastest headache in history, or I have to start being a horrible parent more often.