One morning, when I was in my formative years , I had a school test I hadn’t revised for. My lack of application to my school work had already been the source of a ‘conversation’ between me and my dad several weeks before and I knew that my performance in this test would probably earn me another bare-bottomed appointment with him.
I decided the best thing to do was pretend to be sick. So when Mom came in to see why I hadn’t showered or appeared at the breakfast table, I told her I had a bad stomach ache. I was pretty good at hamming it up, and my mother looked at me in a concerned way, though somewhat sceptically. I guess she knew children would be children!
“I’d better get the thermometer and take your temperature,” she said. I had been cute enough to foresee this move on Mom’s part and had a plan, thanks to a comic book I had read some time back. Mom came back with the thermometer, stuck it in my mouth, and told me to keep it there while she finished up with something in the kitchen.