October 20, 2006

Silicon Valley Mom

Campbell’s chicken soup is mmm mmm good

By Dona Nichols
Special to the Times

“I have had it. I have just had it,” I said to my husband. “Come Christmas, somebody in this house is going to be medicated, and I don’t care which one of us it is.”

In order to stay home from school you have to be throwing up or at least be able to spike a triple-digit temperature. Those are the rules I have for the two younger kids who often look for ways to get out of going to school.

When Cody, my oldest, said he was sick on Tuesday, I was only a tad skeptical. He’s always been pretty good about going to school even though he doesn’t have a stellar performance record once he gets there. I felt his head and it was a little warm so I didn’t question him.

I was busy trying to get the other two out the door when I noticed Cody had gone back to bed.

I went in to comfort him. “Is there anything I can get for you?” I asked, using my soft and sweet motherly whisper.

“No, I just want to sleep,” Cody groaned. It seemed to take every last bit of breath for him to answer me.

About an hour later, once everyone else was off to school, I noticed him waddling down the hall to watch TV. By 10:30 that morning, this child who barely had the energy to answer me hours earlier, was in the backyard shooting hoops and playing with the dog.

Miraculous recovery or amazing con job?

Two days later he started the day the same way, saying he was sick, again.

“You’re going to school,” I heard my husband yell out from the other end of the house.

I felt his head. “You’ll be fine,” I told him.

About 15 minutes later, Cody came up to my room and asked where the thermometer was so I got it for him and felt his forehead again. He was fine.

“This will be proof that he’s OK,” I thought to myself.

I watched the mercury rise in the thermometer to 106 degrees, then on to 109 and higher.

“Very impressive. Now open up and spit it out,” I demanded.

Sure enough, he had a penny under his tongue. Problem was however, he left it there too long for it to be believable.

“How dare he use a scam like this on me,” I thought to myself. “My girlfriends were pulling this trick in high school, 30-something years ago. At least they had the good sense to move the penny away from the thermometer before it got too hot.”

“I only did it because I knew you wouldn’t believe I had an upset stomach,” Cody said.

“You’re going to school,” I said, echoing my husband’s earlier demands.

Cody then asked for a bucket or bowl to carry around in case he threw up. Five minutes later he came out with a big bowl of what he claimed was barf.

Ralph didn’t buy it, and neither did I.

He swore up and down he was really sick. A few minutes later Ralph came out of Cody’s room and said, “I found the empty can of Campbell’s cream of chicken vomit in his closet.”

I told Ralph that he should’ve grabbed a spoon and taken a bite of the so-called “vomit.”

That afternoon Cody came home from school and acted like nothing had happened. He started rummaging through the cupboard and said he was hungry.

“How about some soup,” I said.

I’m telling you, come Christmas, someone in this house is going to be medicated and I sure hope it’s me.

Dona Nichols teaches journalism at San Jose State University and does stand-up comedy on the side at the Improv in downtown San Jose. She lives in Evergreen with her husband and three children. Email her at: DonaNichols@gmail.com.