Juma has of late acted as if eating dinner were torture. He wants to know exactly how many bites of this and that he has to eat before he can get down. And he often fakes illness, headache, stomach ache, and tiredness to try to get out of eating.
It never works. Somehow, he's perfectly healthy and awake as soon as he's done--as if the only things bothering him were hunger and boredom.
So when he tried the "I don't feel good" thing again tonight, we were fed up. Justin told him the story of the boy who cried wolf, and explained how it applied to Juma tonight. "So you see, the boy is like you. Every day, you say you are sick, but you never are. So we don't believe you tonight. Now eat."
If you have the Dutson hyperactive gag reflex, please stop reading now. Seriously, stop. Just guess what happened.
Juma finally settled down into eating, but then started to climb out of his high chair, utter panic on his face. He wasn't that good at faking it. This was real.
"What's wrong?"
And then the wolf, uh, I mean the illness, showed its true colors. All over Justin, Juma, and the floor (wood, thank goodness). And again. Justin got Juma into the bathroom before the next one hit--on the floor one foot away from the toilet. And then he was done and feeling fine, except for the fact that he had his undigested dinner all over his shirt and pants.
In the end, we reminded Juma this is why he shouldn't cry wolf. Not quite getting it, he protested, "But I really was sick!" Yes, and we, the townspeople, didn't believe you.
Until we were up to our elbows in you-know-what.
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