Greg Bruce: Too sick for school? The great parenting dilemma

Sick or just sick of school? Good luck with figuring that out. Photo / Getty

Is any mystery as mysterious as whether or not a 6-year-old is too sick to go to school on a cold and wet Monday morning?

Because the child’s claim and its need for resolution happen under the intense time pressure of the morning rush and its multiple emotional stressors, involving unironed shirts and other children who won’t brush their teeth, it is almost impossible to accurately gather, weigh and interrogate the evidence.

Also, there is no evidence. If there was evidence, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. If a judge walked into the sorry scene at 8am and had to make a decision, she would have no choice but to summarily dismiss the child’s case, even in the face of the child complaining that he doesn’t know what “circumstantial” means. Easy for the judge. She doesn’t have to live with him.

On the rare occasions there is evidence, it is scanty and contradictory. For instance, my 6-year-old’s “sicknesses” are always worst on Mondays, which suggests a mental issue, but as we now know, mental issues are health issues. They are also probable causes of the sore tummies that are his most prominent physical symptom.

Last Monday, as usual, he told us he was sick and I told him he had to go to school and he told me he wouldn’t, and things continued to escalate until he eventually screamed at me and ran away. He returned 10 minutes later, only to throw a piece of paper at me before running away again. On it, he’d written in increasingly large and angry lettering the words, “sick sick sick sick sick sicky SICK!”

He’s still learning how to write, so this had taken a lot of effort and he’d also done an adorable balloon exclamation mark after the final “sick”. I was frustrated by it and wanted him to go to school almost as much as I was touched by it and wanted him to stay home. I decided to keep that piece of paper forever so I can remind myself how adorable he once was, after he inevitably crashes my car at 16 then shrugs his shoulders and tells me it’s my fault for being such a douchebag.

In the absence of evidence for or against claims of sickness, you are forced to make decisions based on outcomes. From a child relationship angle, the rational decision is to give in, even if you suspect they’re faking, not because they will be grateful – they won’t – but because if you send them to school when they’re actually sick, they will never forget the injustice and will repay you every time you ask them to put a bowl in the dishwasher.

From a spousal relationship angle, however, you must send them to school. In most modern relationships, and certainly mine, neither partner has the time to stay home and deal with the demands of a pretend-sick child and because of this, the one who does it will forever resent the other.

In other words, like almost everything to do with parenting, this is a no-win situation and if you wanted to avoid dealing with this kind of thing every single day of your life, you should never have done what you did six years and nine months prior.

Last Monday, just as all hope again seemed lost, my wife had what seemed like a master stroke. She said to our son: “Let’s take your temperature.” In reply, he screamed, “THAT’S NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING!” and at that point I knew he was fine.

I started trying to get him into his school uniform but he fought me violently until eventually my wife said, “We’ll just let him stay home.” My heart sank. I had lost on both fronts. I was a bad dad, and, because I had to go to work, also a bad spouse. Oh well, I thought, self-pityingly, at least things couldn’t get any worse.

Later that day, when my wife texted me a photo of our son on the couch, rheumy eyed, snotty and miserable, I learned that they could.