The Boy Who Cried Tummy Ache

Tucker is the kind of kid who is made for school. He loves to learn and does best with a schedule. That's why I knew kindergarten would be a dream for him. And a dream it was. Until he discovered the nurse.

His first trip to the nurse occurred at 9:30 a.m. early in the school year. He has eczema, and his skin was really itchy. The nurse put lotion on for him and cared for him better than his own mother. Wouldn't you know that the next day at 9:30 he started itching again, and he was pleased to learn that the sweet nurse was still there to sooth him. And at 9:30 the following day the itches returned, and you can guess what happened next. And the day after that. And the day after that.

I don't remember how I learned about these nurse trips. It could have come up in a casual conversation with his teacher. If memory serves, I learned of his obsession with the nurse at the same time I learned that he "takes a knee" during the moment of silence every day (because when a game is silent that means a player is down and everyone else takes a knee, duh).

Anyway, Trey and I talked to Tucker about how you should only go to the nurse when you are really sick or really hurt, and that seemed to help things for a while.

Sometime later he realized that if he was sick enough the nurse would call someone to come and pick him up and take him home. The first time or two this happened, I decided that he was probably just tired and needed the rest. Interestingly, he kept having tummy aches just before lunch.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, his Mimi was called to pick him up because he had a tummy ache. He thought he might feel better if he ate, and the only thing that sounded good to him was Mi Cocina. So he had a Mexican food lunch with his Mimi and played Wii Sports all afternoon. Now I'm no doctor, but this was not the behavior of a sick little boy.

Thus I launched Operation Interrogation. I started stealthily asking him questions about school. It went something like this:
Me: Do you like school?
Tucker: yeah
Me: Is anyone mean to you at school?
Tucker: (thinks for a moment, then) One time this girl Jordan bit me. That wasn't nice.
Me: What is your favorite part of school?
Tucker: Stations
Me: What do you like the least about school?
Tucker: math tubs
Me: When do you do math tubs?
Tucker: right before lunch

AHA! I had my answer! He didn't like math tubs, so he was arranging to leave school instead of participating in them. After more investigation, I learned that the problem with math tubs is that he finishes them too fast and then he's bored.

If you've ever met me, you've probably heard me brag about how smart Tucker is. I don't do it on purpose, but he just impresses me so much. Don't get me wrong, he's not doing calculus and curing cancer (yet), but the "know-it-all" in him makes him just want to know stuff. He learns so quickly because he wants to know everything.

My big fear is that he'll be that kid who is more than capable of being successful in school, but decides at an early age that it's just too boring to be worth his time. So I had to do something! Despite my better judgement, I became worse than a helicopter mom. I became a helicopter mom who is also a teacher.

Tucker's teacher (who is awesome, by the way) and I came up with a five part plan.

Part One: I made Tucker a nurse pass that he can use only once per week. Once he uses it, he can't go back unless he's bleeding.

Part Two: The teacher talked to the nurse and Tucker's other teachers and let them know about his little shenanigans. He wouldn't be fooling them anymore.

Part Three: Tucker's teacher would move him to a level K reader to give him more of a challenge at school.

Part Four: This was Tucker's idea. He suggested that after he goes to bed at night I can write two digit addition problems on paper and put them in his backpack (so he can't see them). Then, if he finishes math tubs early, he can do the math problems I made up for him. Yes, my child asks me to make math problems for him to do in his free time. Yes, he is a nerd. Instead of giving myself homework every night I just bought a math workbook at Walmart for him to keep in his backpack.

Part Five: We made it very clear to Tucker that if he comes home from school sick he is to lay in the bed until school would be out. All day. For hours. Laying in the bed only.The idea is that if you're sick enough to come home, you're sick enough to stay in bed.

In short, I am a genius. My kid wouldn't stay at school, but he was no match for me. I am a mother, for goodness sakes! I laughed in the face of this problem!

Until Tuesday. Tuesday I got an email from Tucker's teacher saying that he'd been to the nurse for a tummy ache, and the nurse had sent him back to class. But at the time of the email he was laying n the floor next to the trash can. My baby was pitiful. I replied to the teacher to say I'd be right there to get him.

When I walked into his classroom his back was to me. He was standing up counting every letter in the class's "100 letter rhyme" because he believed it to be 101 letters. He was happy and confident and counting away. Rotten little kid.

When he finally turned and saw me, it was the best production I've seen in a while. He clutched his stomach, doubled over, and huge tears welled up in his eyes. He whispered, "I'm so glad you're here. I'm sick."

But this kid was clearly not sick. I took him out into the hall and told him that I was glad he was feeling better and I had just come to check on him. Then the waterworks really started. I think the only time I've seen him look so helpless was when he had a serious case of pneumonia and couldn't hold his head up. I guess now I have to wonder if he faked his chest x-ray that day. Hmmm...

I was faced with a dilemma - leave my screaming child there and risk being the world's worst mother when he puked all over the classroom or take him home even though I knew he wasn't sick. The situation was further complicated by the fact that I was absolutely certain he could put on a puking performance given the proper inspiration, and my leaving would have provided just that.

So I took him home and relegated him to his bedroom. I'd see him get up, and I'd put on my best Mom face and point my finger and announce "You get back in that bed! You're sick, remember?" His request for chocolate milk was met with my reminder that his tummy hurt. Chocolate milk wasn't good for tummy aches. I heard the radio turn on, and made him turn it off because I didn't want it to disturb his rest. I was stoic, unbeatable. I was certain I'd won.

Five hours from the time we walked through those elementary school doors, I let him come out of his room. Even though I knew the answer, I knew I had proved my point, I asked the question anyway. "Tucker, did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, I had a pretty good day," he shrugged.

And I lost again.

Today he went to the library, and I told him to look for "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." He asked the librarian for it and checked it out for the week. Tonight we read it, and I asked him, "What do you think would happen to a boy who said he was sick all the time?"

His answer, "When he really is sick no one will believe him."

I kissed him on the cheek and thought to myself, "That book would have saved me some time a few weeks ago."