Mummy never lies

Today's story takes us way back to the kindi days. Insert the wavy dream movie effect with wooo wooo wooo.

Honestly I remember bugger all of kindi. I think the memory part of my brain wasn't fully developed yet OR I've hit my head so much and consumed umm... not good stuff to erase/nullify that memory part...thingy.

Anyone one thing I do remember is that I was a total angel in kindi. (awkward pause?) *crickets*
Ok, so I wasn't perfect, I do remember in our kindi class we all had our name on the wall. Beside our name was a series of boxes, so kinda like a wall sized Excel spreadsheet years before home computing was a possibility. In each box (corresponding to each day of the week) our teacher would place a star in it. YES A STAR! I kid you not! Unbelievable huh? Stars.

But wait, there is more! These stars may be different colours! Yes my friends, it is true. Stars of different colours. The star placed along our named row could be a gold star, indicating you were are good little bunny that day or a black star, dum dum dum, of course indicating your were less than angelic on that particular day.

As you know from previous stories, my alter ego childhood self was a rather cunning individual, and on one auspicious day whist the teacher was being distracted by my elite squad of kindi terrorists (eep, I used the T word, this blog is now being read by the NSA, CIA, FDA and Greenpeace), I (yes go ahead, cue the mission impossible soundtrack again) snuck up to the teachers desk. Picked the lock on the drawer (just kidding, no lock) open the drawer and 'borrowed' the box of black stars. I then proceeded to place all of the black stars up my arms, using them all of course.

Like clockwork, the teacher turns around to see me gleefully putting the LAST one on, too late to run for cover I boldly accept my fate. A martyr to the end. Freedom from the black stars for my people. It must have been a horrible fate since the memory of it has been suppressed by my subconscious.

It will come as no surprise then that I would on occasion desire to not go to kindi (perhaps because I did something the day before that I believed I'd be shitcanned for the next day, not sure, but it stands to reason). So like all I'd fake being sick. It's a shame that Ferris Bueller's day off hadn't been made yet, as his tips would have really helped out.

My mother being the caring and concerned mother that she is, was very worried when her darling son woke up sick. So sick in fact he felt he couldn't go to kindi. My mother readily agreed I shouldn't go if I felt so bad (and this is where I perhaps overdid it...or she was onto me right from the word go). Preparing myself to return to the sanctuary of my bed I heard "best get dressed and take you to see the doctor". Shock. I froze. I didn't know what to do or say. "I don't think I'm that bad Mum" "No no, if you're too sick for kindi you're sick enough to see the doctor" "oh, ok" Already a plan was trying to be devised in my head as to how I could fool a doctor into believing I was sick and prescribing drugs that would have no adverse side effects on a perfectly healthy young boy.

Remember the title of this tale? Mummy never lies. Yeah, well, that's a lie.

"Now remember, if we go to the doctor, and he finds out that there is nothing wrong with you, he'll take you away and you'll never see us ever again" (I was staying at my grandmother's house at the time). What made it worse was that I'd just finished reading the Pied Piper of Hamlin, so I totally believed what my mother was saying. I believed it so much that not only did I make a miraculous recovery that day and go to kindi, it also inoculated me against fake sickness throughout my primary school days too.

I think I have no way to get revenge on my mother for that one, so I'll just have to concede the point and do the same to my son when he tries to play hooky. (Get my revenge vicariously, muhahahaha)

Nope, still sucks I got duped like that.