Tummy Trouble

I’d just tipped my feet out of bed and was adjusting my thoughts through my morning fog; mainly consumed it has to be said, by what to make for supper, when Paul ran up the stairs to our attic bedroom.
‘I think we have a problem.’
‘How come?’
‘Max is sat on the loo and complaining of tummy trouble.’
‘Ah.’
‘I don’t think he’s the slightest bit ill. I just think he’s setting things up for a day off from school.’
‘Oh goodie, that old routine.’
‘I’ve had a word, but I’m just giving you a heads up.’
The time was ripe for no messing. I knew that in order to beat my son at this little cycle of behaviour I was going to have to get tough. I dragged on my slippers and plodded downstairs to the toilet. Max was sat looking suitably glum with just a hint of perplexion – the perfect pitch to pull off fooling mum. I was having none of it.
‘Hi Max! Got a problem with your tummy sweetheart?’
‘Yes. I’m not well.’ He pulled an impressive pained expression.
‘Well love, you still have to go to school. I know it must be hard to go back to your class after trying out the Sixth Form for a week, but it has to be done, and let me make it very clear Max, you are going to school.’
‘Don’t say that! Leave me alone!’
‘Ok. Well, Get a wiggle on and I’ll get breakfast.’
‘That mum, she’s so mean!’
I set myself onto autopilot for the next half an hour. I made Max’s sandwiches, produced breakfast, shooshed my boys along in their preparations for school, determined not to waiver and lose heart. I thought I’d drop Max’s teacher Miss Cseko, an email just to be on the safe side.
Dear Miss Cseko,
Good morning!
I thought I’d alert you to Max’s cunning plan today. I do think we’ve nipped it in the bud, but it won’t hurt to give you a heads up. Max started off this morning by complaining about his tummy. He did have sweet potato last night which may make his bowels a little loose perhaps, but not the runs and certainly not cramps etc.
I came down hard and made strong noises about there being absolutely no chance of getting off from school .(I think he did particularly enjoy himself in the Sixth Form last week & has perhaps found returning to ‘normal class’ quite difficult) Thankfully he grasped the strength of my feelings and had his shower & breakfast etc. However a runny nose has developed.
I’m not sure if anything needs to be said by you, but as we have discussed, I think it will be handy for you to know!
Have a good day
Very best wishes
Sandy
Remarkably Max got ready for school with very little trouble, but just as his bus pulled up outside our house he threw a hissy fit about biscuits.
Dramatic tears, hands over his face, the whole performance.
‘I need a packet of biscuits for the bus! Pauline will be cross with me.’
‘Max there is no way Pauline will be cross with you and you know it. I don’t have any biscuits, you only took a packet recently, I’ll get some more, but I just don’t have any right now.’
Max sat, tears running down his face pulling off a hand-crafted drama rather well.
I ran out to the bus to let Carol and Pauline (driver & escort) know the dilemma we were facing. The fact that I was still in my pink Polka dot winceyette pyjamas was of no consequence to me. I’ve been known to dash out in all weathers, lashing rain, freezing cold, hair slimy and wet with conditioner piled high in a scrunchy, bare feet, I’m well past caring.

Thankfully Pauline came back into our house with me and enticed Max out to the bus. I felt I had won the battle, but I had my doubts about the war. The anticipation of a telephone call from Oak Lodge, Max’s school, was in the back of my mind all day.

Max arrived home with his usual bounce and I was delighted. Not long after I got a telephone call from Miss Cseko.
‘Hi Mrs Lewis, Miss Cseko speaking.’
‘Hi Miss Cseko!’ Such a lovely lady.
Miss Cseko explained to me that Max had been fine all day and she had not been required to talk with him. She did mention that she had been forced to tell him off the day before because he had been messing around when he should have been listening. Max hates to be told off, even when he deserves it. She also said that Max was more than ready for the Sixth Form. He was losing concentration in her class and becoming disruptive.

For once I was delighted. Miss Cseko’s phone call was similar to many phone calls to parents up and down the country. I felt ridiculously normal. For a fleeting moment I was happy to enjoy Max’s rebellious spirit just like any other sixteen year old.