Sick Day

Jacob has a delicate stomach.  Last week he puked in our library bag while we were driving across the border.  Luckily, I had enough fore warning to dump out the books.  And the week before that, he made a frantic run for the toilet at a friend's house after he felt queasy watching him play Wii.

That's why I wasn't that surprised this morning when my cell phone rang and a lady in broken English told me that Jacob was sick.  By the time I arrived at the school a mere seven minutes later, Jacob had recovered. 

He rushed out to me before I could even make it through the gate. 

"I threw up," he announced, a little too proud of himself. 

I escorted him back into the building and asked the confused office staff if he had to go home.  I was trying to find out if leaving school was a requirement for all puking, or if they would be on board with the "puke and rally" policy we employ at home.  They called the English speaking vice principal to talk to me.

I told her that I thought Jacob was nervous and that he seems to get a stomach ache every time the Spanish portion of his bilingual school flips to the morning session. I told her that I didn't want him to fall behind with a sick day when he was obviously fine now.  She stared at me.

"His face was as white as this wall," she said, touching the wall for emphasis.  "And he threw up."  She said this with the utmost conviction, totally confused by my seeming indifference to his sickness.

So I asked Jacob how he felt.  His lips twitched as he tried to control the smile.  "I feel a little sick still.  My stomach still hurts a little."  He groped his abdomen for affect.

I gave up and took him home.  A cup of ginger ale and a bowl of grits later...

I think he'll live.