I've been had!

It's the (blessedly) first time this has happened to me: the call from the school nurse. When I answered my cell phone she said, "This is Nancy, from the Health Center at school. Is Shannon there?" This was delivered in a bland, "he's hurt, but don't panic" voice. Of course, I panicked.

All sorts of horrible things flew through my head: broken bones, head injuries, ebola. Even as my mind churned, I just as calmly said, "This is Conor's mom. What's going on?"

"He has a tummy ache."

Relief. That's it? He gets those all the time, usually followed by a ridiculously long and smelly trip to the bathroom at the end of which he asks me to check his butt. Oh, the joy of it!

So I asked her if he'd been to the bathroom.

"No, but there's a bug going around and he looks really pale. If he has it, it'll be over in 24 to 48 hours."

Immediately, I felt that sweeping, mom-pity for my poor little guy. I sprang into action, informing bosses, promising work from home, wondering if he'd throw up in the car, and I sped to his school.

When I retrieved him, he looked wan and sad. And yes, paler than usual. I promised chicken broth, potato chips, pillows and cartoons - all the things that made me feel a bit better when I was ill. When we got home, he took off his shoes and lay down on the couch as I went into the kitchen to make his lunch.

When I peeked out at him, he was JUMPING ON THE FURNITURE.

"WHAT do you think you're doing?"

He looked around at me. Smooth as silk, he replied, "Sometimes this makes me feel better."

I sat next to him on the couch, pulled him onto my lap and asked him, "What happened at school today?"

Five minutes later, I had the story: there was a substitute teacher, and he did have a stomachache. He asked to go to the nurse, but she wouldn't let him, suggesting that he was hungry instead. Not being understood made him physically feel even worse. Finally, after he'd worried himself sick, she let him go.

As soon as I came running to his aid, he felt fine.

I explained - gently - that he needs to learn how to deal with trouble a little better, and that I'd help him any way I could.

It's only first grade. I know, later, he'll play sick when there's a test or a report due that he hasn't finished. Then, I'll send him to school to face the consequences. Today, he's a little boy still learning how to deal with adversity. I can't rescue him every time, but today, I feel that I've done the right thing.

Even if he did trick me into it.