Our Own Little Peggy Ann McKay

We've had a mysterious illness in our house the last couple of days.  It seems to flare up whenever the subject of something which could potentially be perceived as unpleasant by an 8-year-old comes up.  Church, for example.  Or school.

But not so much when going sledding or playing the Wii are mentioned.

Funny how that works.

The thing is, we're on to her.  She may think she has us fooled, what with all the sympathetic hugs and the "I'm so sorry you're not feeling good.  Maybe you should go lie down", but she's wrong.  In fact, I've discovered as a parent that the believability of a medical complaint is directly disproportionate to the number of times that complaint is expressed within an hour.

And also to the degree of bounciness in the child's body as they issue the complaint.

But I'm never telling my kids this.  The last thing I want to do is teach them how to be better liars.