For the last 2 days, Minky has been telling me he doesn't feel good. On Wednesday, he would have convinced you that he was on his last leg. Then, when he was waiting at the bus stop, I peeked out the window and saw him playing tag and acting happy as a lark.
Today, I let him sleep in and drove him to school. He kept trying to convince me he was deathly ill. I took advantage of the teachable moment to explain that his days of faking illness and of telling stories are catching up to him.
After school, he came home and looked pretty queasy. He promptly threw up.
Minky (as he's escorting me to the bathroom to see his barf): "See, Mom! You should have believed me!!!!"
Me: "Yep, Minky, it's hard to know (insert more teachable moment conversation not worth repeating here)...when you're a dad, you can decide whether or not to believe your kid when they say they're sick."
Minky: "But I'm not going to have kids. They're too much trouble."
Me: "Really?"
Minky: "Yeah. I'm gonna buy a motorcycle and play with my friends and goof off when I'm a grown up."
Me: "How are you going to pay for a motorcycle and a place to live?"
Minky: "My wife will take care of all that. My job will be to play."
It's so reassuring to know I'm raising such a go-getter.
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