As a child I hated to be sick. I hated to admit I was sick. I would try everything to hide that I was not feeling well. My mother is smart though and always knew when I was not feeling well. She would call me out on it and I would be so angry/sad that I had been found out. I still do it today. I don't know why I have such a hard time admitting that I might have caught a sick bug. A few years back I went months knowing that I had a hernia, but didn't go to the doctor to have them confirm this. I did eventually go and had to have surgery. I guess I think that if I ignore feelings of sickness/pain then whatever I may have will just go away. Sometimes I think this works, but sometimes it doesn't and I have to admit defeat.

It seems I have passes this "trait" onto Maxwell. He awoke this morning obviously not feeling well. When I asked him if he was feeling ok he would answer with "I'm fine". Eventually though he admitted (after crying for over an hour) that he had a soar throat and tummy. After getting a confirmation from the good old thermometer that he has a fever, he was tucked into the couch and will remain there for the day. When I check on him he quietly says, "I feel good", but he's not fooling anyone. This boy is sick...I just hope he gets over it by Monday so he can enjoy his birthday.