Alex's cough is sloooooowly but surely getting better. He doesn't cough as often and it's not usually quite as vomit-inducing as last week. However, he has picked up this nifty little habit of exaggerating the cough. And then he tells me he has to puke, we run to the garbage can or toilet, he bends over, lets out a tiny fake throat clearing cough and announces he's done puking. Or in the midst of exaggerating, which by the way also now incorporates a fake sneeze, he irritates his throat/lungs enough that he makes himself cough for real. I'm choosing to believe he is working on his future movie star career in which he is going and make gobs of money and take care of me forever. I can just see his name in lights...The Hacker; starring Alex T. Julius as Main Hacker.
Anywho, last night we finished up reading books and two seconds after I turned off the light, he coughed and immediately told me he was going to puke. Being the loving mother I am, I asked if he was sure. Yep. Gonna puke. So, again being loving, I sat on his bed instead of helping him, and said the following as he left his room and headed for the garbage can:
Well, ok, but I'm having a hard time believing you. Don't let me hear you forcing it and pretending to cough.
And with those words of support, he puked. A lot. Like all of the milk he had just consumed. Out of his mouth and nose, which not surprisingly scares the shit out of him, so there was a brief bit of crying. With me finally off my fat ass, rubbing his back and telling him I was so sorry for not believing him right away.
So, you know, I'm feeling like a really good mom. I can see him on a talk show now, "Well, I would thank and support my parents, but my mom never believed me. Thanks a lot Mom, enjoy your trailer park."
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