Sick Boy

My kids are tell it like it is type of people. Pretty much they are miniature versions of me. I don't sugar coat, I don't mince words, and I don't waste words (although some may argue this blog does just that). My kids are the same way. I love that about them...even though at times it can be highly embarrassing.

My son has been telling me for a few days now that he is a "sick boy." He wouldn't tell me that unless he was. He doesn't fake illness for attention or make things up for the fun of it. The problem was that he didn't seem sick. He wasn't acting sick. In fact, he seemed perfectly fine, so while I acknowledged his continued assertions that he was a "sick boy" inside I was wondering what the heck he was talking about.

Then yesterday he pooped his body weight in a yellow mustardy color poop that reminded me of a breast-fed newborn. I had to light every candle in the house just to faintly get rid of the smell. Putrid doesn't begin to describe it. I guess he was sick.

But today he woke up seemingly fine so after dropping my daughter off at Vacation Bible School for the morning I took him grocery shopping. Suddenly he starts ripping these loud, horrendous farts throughout the store all the while telling me that his stomach hurt. We were standing in the dairy section getting milk and eggs and yogurt when he farts so loudly I swear people thought it was me. To deflect the attention I said, "Wow, buddy are you okay?" He says, "When you have to toot you have to toot. There's nothing you can do about it." The old lady next to us about peed through her depends she was laughing so hard. She then says, "Ain't that the truth."

Anyway, he spent the remainder of the day sick as a dog. I guess he really was a "sick boy."