The Treat of Vomit

Vomiting is a coveted skill to my boys. A simple investment of a few minutes of gagging and upchucking food can result in school-mandated 48 hours at home. There are no threats associated with vomiting, only treats.

Tings once successfully gagged himself before school. 

Now in fairness, he didn't like what he ate but being the literal dude that he is, announced to his teacher he threw up before school and his parents sent him anyway. We got the call to pick him up. Behavior was learned.

And as with most second children, the social learning theory plays a pivotal part in Hunie's education so since Tingu loves being the patient, Hunie does now too. the boys have an exceptional pediatrician so I can understand some of the appeal.

Of course, Hunie learns from the Master.

It was ONLY day 2 of Kindergarten for Hunie when I got the first call. I usually receive these school phone calls while sitting in my office. More times than not a few colleagues are in the room and more times than not, I would be trying in vain to control my laughter while getting one of them to say ‘uh-huh’ on the phone. This was no exception.

First day of School : Already trained in the art of being a 'gundo'!

Surprisingly, it was the school nurse was calling. I was immediately relieved it was not a behavioral issue and momentarily, very momentarily, concerned : Huns was complaining of a severely “aching right armpit” due to overzealous karate chopping. When there was little that could be done for his armpit, his ailments migrated to a “very, itchy left knee”. We believe he was somewhat disappointed with the consolatory hydro-cortisone so then he whipped out the tried and true, “I have a sore stomach” with an implied and imminent threat of vomit.

Since he was, luckily, unable to produce the vomit, he went back to class and I got a phone call.

Perhaps funniest of all is that B, who had received the first call from the nurse, then got a text from me saying my armpit was aching and started wondering if there really was an armpit epidemic going around!

I also received phone calls on school day 4 and day 5, day 7 and day 9. All from our very hard working school nurse.

D4 : Hunie walked into a wall and got a bloody nose

D5: Hunie was playing soccer and got a bloody nose

D7: Tings, our little professor, was hit in the head with a soccer ball.

D9: Tingu was hit in the gut with a soccer ball (and has had an imminent threat of vomit ever since!)

Striving to puke like his bro!

                        Not so sure about that medical career we had pegged on Hunie. Here he is showing his compassion.                                    (No comments on their mother's empathy.)

So this morning, I was doing my best to explain Munchhausen syndrome, though a story of a fictitious kid. Tingu could be up for an academy award for all his 'injuries'. I thought this would be a timely lesson.

Ice packs are an all time fav of the Tingu

In the midst of the story, I was interrupted by Tings, who said that my story was making him laugh and laughing hurt his stomach and when his stomach hurts he may throw up and when he throws up he may not be able to go to school….

Nope. No broken arm. Not even sprained. I think he had a scrap on his elbow and wanted to allow the scab to heal. 

Huns, in the meantime, was spinning himself in mad circles, laughing and squealing that “he hopes he doesn't throw up!”

Perfecting the art of looking ill.

So the game of figuring out how to stay home has been sparked. And as long as it sparks creativity and stays innocent a la Ferris Bueller, I am up for playing.  I equate it to vulnerability testing of computer systems. I would rather encounter is now in a safe environment of elementary school and figure out how to handle it then learn it later.

And unlike the adults in Ferris Bueller, I am okay with the kids challenging us to become more competent parents worthy of providing effective direction. But perhaps, most importantly, I very deeply appreciate that they challenge the status quo of anything that doesn't appeal to them. I like that we as parents have to dig deep to find answers to the ‘why’ and when the answers are weak, I would hope we would find better solutions together i.e. the hot compress armpit sling.

"My armpit....!"