Being the good mommy that I am, when he threw up the other morning, I helped him wipe up his face and brush his teeth.
Then I took him to school.
Because he told me he felt better.
Really, the boy throws up all the time.
Really.
Half an hour later, the school called to tell me he threw up all over his classroom.
On the way home after picking him up.
"The nurse was asking me why you brought me in here when I didn't feel well..."
"Nicholas. You told me you felt fine. I believed you."
"I didn't want to miss school. We're doing a project on whales."
Brother.
Oh, don't feel too bad for Nicholas. Within literally half and hour of bringing him back home, he was jumping on the furniture, eating Oreos he snuck out of the pantry, and playing video games. He ate three helpings of salmon at dinner, and got in a brawl with his brother as soon he came home.