My son had a stomach bug over the weekend. There was no
doubt he was really sick. You can’t fake that kind of ailment. However, there
were moments during his recovery when I thought there might be a little overacting
involved. Let’s face it—whoever says girls have a corner on overdramatizing
things has never met a six-year-old boy.
Well, last night, between dinner and the kids’ bedtime, I
snuck a couple of pieces of chocolate left over from Christmas. As I bent over
my son to pray with him at bedtime, he placed his hand over his nose and
gradually looked more and more panicked.
“What’s wrong?” I finally asked.
“Did you eat chocolate?” was his only reply.
“Yes, a while ago,” I said. “Why?”
“The smell…it’s gonna make me throw up!” he exclaimed. “Can
you bring me a bowl in case I throw up tonight?”
“Well, when I leave you won’t smell it any more, so there
won’t be a problem,” I reasoned, also reasoning that it had been two days since
he’d actually vomited and so there was very little chance anything would
happen. He had other ideas, though.
“What if I dream about it?!” he pressed. “Please bring me a
bowl!”
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