I knew it was coming, but I just didn't expect it so soon. I knew it was coming because it's just one of those things you do when you're a kid with boundaries to test and push. But at 4 years old? I really didn't think kids figured it out that young.
This morning you could have called me a witch doctor. A magic man. A true healer. Praise the Lord, you are well! Well I didn't say that. All I said was 'you don't have to go to preschool' and miraculously Owen was healed. That is until I changed my mind. Then the spell was broken and he was horribly sick, unable to stand at all. Bound to his bed. He did it all except moan. The bottom lip hung limp, his eyes moistened and looked as sad as a basset hound. His shoulders sagged and he looked down right pathetic. If I hadn't been paying attention he may have got away with it. But I didn't become a mom yesterday.
All weekend, quite out of the blue, I earn my stripes again. (Not that I'm lacking any) While sitting cosy on the couch together Saturday evening, Owen suddenly gets up and decides he doesn't want supper anymore, and it all comes back up. All over the floor. It wouldn't be as much of a panic if it weren't for Shady. Skills of an acrobat are needed to get from my seat, over the mess to the paper towel on the other side of the room. All the while keeping the dog and my toes, out of the mess.
By Sunday evening, the battle between going down and coming up was won. A bagel successfully stayed put. But since that was all he ate all weekend, I thought Owen would be as exciting as a blob of goo today, stuck to the couch. I snuck into his room this morning to find him curled up, eyes fluttering somewhere between awake and asleep, sucking his fingers. The way he has since he was a baby, reminding me that he's still a little boy. 'How are you feeling?' I asked when his eyes finally met mine. A shrug of the shoulders was all I got. So I said the magic words.
That's when he showed me that he's not so little. In fact he's a sneaking little fart, trying to pull a Ferris Buelers Day Off. I'm sure now, that in seconds he had a list of toys he would sneak out of his brothers room while he was stuck in school. In minutes he was out of bed, dressed, breakfast in the toaster and sitting cosy on the couch watching the beginning of what he hoped was a day full of cartoons.
I have to give him credit though. I didn't know he had it in him. Too bad he hadn't studied his brother a bit longer, planned a bit better. Reiley knows that you have to fake it until at least lunch time to get away with it.