One of my kids this year, B, is always complaining about some mysterious malady. And as a result, I am always biting back (or letting out) some snide response to his complaints.
A month ago, I heard, “I have a little bump on my head.”
Two weeks ago, it was, “My knee is hurting.”
Last week, he told me, “My eyes are watering.”
Sometimes, I just reply with a quick, “Sorry.” Other times, I try to express solidarity with the lad, by telling him about my own pains. “Oooh yeah, and my hands are kind of hurting today, B.”
But today, he turned around to tell me, “I have cramps.”
Let me tell you, I had to fight SO hard the urge to respond, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
Reminds me of a hilarious quote from the movie Raising Arizona. Click here to listen.
Of course, B could have worse things to complain about. I had a little girl last year, N, one of the few white kids at our school, who had the most smothering southern accent you can imagine. N came back from a doctor’s appointment with a new way to express her problems. She would tell me, “I’m having girl problems down there.” As she pointed not-so-subtly at her crotch.
Despite the “girl problems” and the fact that she fell asleep in class EVERY DAY, N’s most memorable moment was on Career Day, when she asked a guest speaker, a local supermarket manager, “Is cherries good for you?”
Well, my angina and my sciatica are starting to act up, and I think I feel a bit of the gout coming on. I had better wrap this up!
My wife sells jewelry! Treat yourself to some bling!
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6 comments:
My standard answer for every ailment, unless I can actually see blood dripping or a pile of vomit, is:
"Let me know if it falls off"
This usually takes care of the problem
Very funny, mike. :D
I know people who vomit at the sight of blood, but hopefully none of my kids will bleed at the sight of vomit.
LOL@misterteacher,
And we can't forget chain-barfing, when the sight of one child barfing sets antother one off
Chain barfing is no laughing matter- I'm very prone to it myself. At the first syllables of "I don't feel so good", I vigorously point to the door, sometimes even hold it for them.
A funny hypochondriac story comes from my husband's brother, who, in first grade was very "wiggly". His teacher asked him what was the matter and he told her "My girdle is KILLING me." She suggested he step out into the hall and fix it.
One of my mom's former students came back after being absent with the requisite note from a parent explaining the absence. "She caught cataracts."
We had a frequent flyer at our clinic - her best line was "There is a bump on my tongue. I think I am allergic to salt".
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