What kind of mother leaves her sick kid home alone all day? This kind apparently. It’s not that I don’t believe he’s sick. He is. I’m suspect about just how sick, ’cause he seems not that sick. And here’s why I’m questioning–
Before leaving for work this morning, I warned that he better not find his way to a Chicago Cubs game, end up in a downtown parade singing Twist and Shout or impersonate Abe Frohman, sausage king of Chicago. After a beat, my son’s eyes turned up with that little glow of recognition, and he promised not to go full-on Ferris Bueller today. He laughed for reals, strolled over to the piano, and lit it up with his own fake body sounds á la Ferris–the burps and farts noises our 80s movie hero has programmed to his 80s Mini-Moog-ish synthesizer. Super. Charming, but not that sick, right?
I do believe he’d been Bean-Boozled. Do you know what this is? The Jelly Belly company has produced a “game” straight from the depths of hell. In each “game” box–yes, again with the quotes–players spin and select a jelly bean of the selected pattern/color. Some are dee-lish–juicy pear, coconut, buttered popcorn to name a few. But their counterparts are the nastiest chemical compositions known to humankind. Land on black, and you might get licorice or you might pick skunk spray. I crap you negative! (bonus points to anyone getting that movie reference.) You might enjoy a sweet Georgia peach, alternately you may be subjected to a barf-flavored jelly bean. Or boogers, moldy cheese, maybe canned dog food (which I hear isn’t all that bad by way of comparison ). Just who in fresh hell created these? Whose evil genius rocketed this into product development, and what kind of suckers agree to taste test skunk ass infused food products?? IT REEKED FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, PEOPLE! My Yahoo spent birthday Amazon gift card booty on this. Thank stars for Amazon Prime free shipping–you’re welcome, son. I allowed my child to spend money to eat intentionally revolting candy so he could intentionally be grossed out! I’m so confused. God, I’m old.
My kid bounds out of bed in the morning. It is probably the most committed motor activity of his entire day. Good morning, world! Let’s eat! Not today. For the first time in ever, he needed a second wake up call. Clutching his middle all the way down the stairs, in and out of the bathroom, and to the breakfast table, I knew something was wrong. He just didn’t feel well, he moaned. Super snotty I-know-like-I-know-my-name-I-am-right mom was certain it had everything to do with those jellybeans.
In the end, it may have had something to do with those jellybeans. But anytime my taller-than-me 12-year-old leans in and stays there, you know something’s up. Even the lure of mock chicken legs for hot lunch was insufficient to rouse him into action, so yeah, he was at minimum at least kinda sorta maybe a teensy shade of legit sick. Most likely. I took 15 minutes of sick time, drove home and spent my lunch millisecond with him before heading to another school for a meeting. It was the sweetest part of my day. I lose the January Mother of the Year nomination for having left him prone on our couch, but I pulled out a lunchtime victory for us both. His recovery has been nothing short of miraculous, which makes me wonder what else is making his stomach hurt. Hmmm. . .