I think we’ve been snookered.  By our 8-year-old son.  Which is quite embarrassing, to tell the truth.  Forget being smarter than a 5th grader.  We’re not even smarter than our 2nd grader.

It all started when he was up in the night with an asthma attack.  Husband got up with him and helped him with the nebulizer.  He mentioned a tummy ache, and we thought he felt warm so we took his temperature, but it was normal.  Everyone went back to bed and all was well.

When we all woke up this morning, little D was wheezing again but the inhaler took care of that.  He and his sisters watched some TV while I scrambled to make breakfast, get a chicken in the crock pot for dinner, and make muffins to take to church for "coffee hour".  Which is really just a half-hour, but I don’t suppose "coffee half hour" has quite the same ring to it, so "coffee hour" it is.

While the muffins baked I ran upstairs to jump in the shower, and when I emerged my husband informed me that Little D had taken to his bed with a tummy ache.

Now.  Allow me to set the stage for you.  Gullible is my middle name.  I have been snookered before by this clever little guy "calling wolf" when he doesn’t feel like going to church or school.  But my husband is not usually a sucker for these shenanigans.  He can sniff out a lie long before I wise up to the ploy.

This morning, however, Little D was pretty convincing.  Even my husband fell for the whole stomach ache ruse.  He told me that it was possible he was making it up, but we didn’t dare send him to church for fear he’d vomit all over the people sitting in front of us at the most inopportune time.  I say that as if there is an opportune time to puke. 


Husband actually predicted at one point that as soon as he left for church, I would find our son downstairs asking to watch TV.  And I, the biggest puke-a-phobe on earth, was praying desperately that this would indeed be the case.

Let’s face it, ’tis better to be snookered by a deceitful offspring than to find one’s home attacked by the Plague of the Pukes the week before Christmas.  Or any time, for that matter.  But especially not this week.  Please God!!  (And I mean that with all sincerity and reverence, I assure you.)

And to top it all off, this was one of those mornings that I did not want to miss church.  Not that I ever want to miss church, of course.  No not I, for I’m far too spiritually mature for that.  And if you believe that I have a bridge in Brooklyn I would like to sell you. 

But you see, this morning we received a phone call from our pastor informing us that he was too sick to preach today, and since my husband is the only church member who is licensed to preach in our Presbytery, guess who drew the short straw? 

So yes, my husband found himself resurrecting a sermon from his files at the very last minute (as in 7am this morning!!) and preparing to preach it to our congregation.  And I certainly did not want to miss that. 

AND.  To top it off, I had all my Sunday School teacher gifts wrapped and ready to take and distribute, but I guess that will have to wait until next week.

So sure enough, as soon as my husband was out the door with a tray of banana muffins and his sermon notes, who should appear at my side but our delinquent son?  Looking quite chipper, I might add.  QUITE a transformation from the little boy writhing in his bed complaining of his upset tummy a few moments ago.

And as further proof that all is well in the Musings household this morning, he has been happily playing with his sisters ever since.  (I just kept them all home, in case we did really have the dreaded Plague of the Pukes — that is not the sort of Christmas cheer I want to be spreading around our congregation today.)

And as thankful as I am that he is not upstairs reliving his dinner from last night, I am highly annoyed that on the one morning I especially did not want to miss church, I was snookered into keeping him and the rest of his cohorts at home.

Although I have to admit, it is a rather nice day to be stuck at home.  Outside it is cold and rainy, and inside the fireplace is on and the Christmas music is playing (refreshingly NEW Christmas music, thanks to all of you who played along with my Christmas Music meme this weekend!!)

This evening we will hopefully be making and decorating molasses cookie cut-outs, my husband’s family Christmas tradition.  And tomorrow is Boomama’s famous Christmas Tour of Homes, so I hope you’ll stop by! 

Until then, stay warm.  And don’t fall for any elaborate childish ploys to avoid undesirable activities.

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8 thoughts on “Snookered!

  1. That sounds like our house. Sometimes I think “fear of puke” is more stressful and traumatic that “puke” itself. (I can only say that because while we’ve had “fear” recently, we haven’t had the deed itself. Knock on wood!)

  2. gravybeans.

    i babysat for pretty much the first time ever…volunteering to take my friend’s 3 kids to their sunday school classes since she had to work, and then took them out for a little lunch and shopping. oh MY. those kids. everytime they would misbehave in the presence of other people, i would sort of throw out something about “your mom” blah blah, so those people didn’t think they were actually MINE, acting up like that. lol.

    i’d do it again in a heartbeat, but phew!

    (plus, i’m only 26, and the oldest was 11. sure, i COULD have had her when i was 15, but, erm, no. lol.)

  3. The only time I forced my kids to go to church, thinking the tummy-aches” were imagined, one of them DID puke all over the sunday school class. I felt so guilty. I couldn’t get my act together to play the Christmas song meme, but I still want to.

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