Chin Pain

One of my sons (I'll call him Bobby), is very much a creature of habit. Like his father, he requires ample notification if a change in his routine is needed. The other day Bobby came into school and was informed that his much beloved Kindergarten teacher was going to be absent, and instead the class would have a substitute. Bobby didn't care for that one bit.

Apparently Bobby got out his official copy of the `How to Be A Kid" handbook, referenced the section on getting out of uncomfortable situations, and came across the passage on `Inventing an Illness". Or possibly Bobby just instinctively knew what to do, based on some genetic code that traces its roots to the old `fight or flight' paradigm.

In any event, Bobby soon informed the substitute teacher that his chin was hurting him. He said he didn't know what had happened to it, he just woke up that morning and had some serious chin pain. I'm assuming he discarded the other 101 ailments that would have been the least bit believable, either because he had already used them, or they just weren't interesting enough for him.

The teacher listened to Bobby's problem and sent him to the nurse. As you might expect, the nurse checked him out and told Bobby that there was nothing wrong with his chin. That was the second problem of the morning for Bobby, being told he was wrong. He doesn't tend to believe that he's wrong. Ever.

So when the nurse refused to call Bobby's mom he trekked back to his classroom and sat down in his seat. The substitute teacher continued the lesson. However, Bobby had other ideas.

Unwilling to acknowledge the fact that he would have to be taught by a total stranger for the day, or that his chin ailment was anything other than real, blinding pain, Bobby got out a crayon and a piece of paper. Somehow he was able to retrieve that piece of information that, despite our constant reiteration, he only occasionally can remember. His home phone number.

In one last attempt to extricate himself from the substitute teacher predicament, Bobby wrote down the number on a scrap of paper, then got out of his seat and approached the teacher. He handed the teacher the phone and the piece of paper and said "Here's my phone number. Call my mother. I don't want to be here anymore." She never did call, but I'll give him a B for originality (subtracting points for using the "I'm sick" excuse, but adding points for the inflamed chin), and an A for persistence.

Michael Paul Miller is the author of the recently published children's book "Kid Tales". For more information on the author and "Kid Tales" visit http://www.kidtales.net/.