Certificate

I don't think Jason should go to school, he's only 3, but Poo says, "this is the Thai way." I don't argue with her because the Thais seem to have a system for producing happy, smiling, laughing human beings, which is better than the farang way of proucing angst-ridden teenagers contemplating suicide.

Last week the boys were horsing around and Thun jumped on Jason. Jason appeared hurt--his usual reaction is to fight back or to start crying--but this time Jason was just stunned and silent. Thun received an earful.

The next day Jason complained to Poo, "Mommy, I can't walk!" Poo thought he was faking an injury to avoid school, so she told him to soldier on and carted him off to school.

An hour later she received a phone call from Jason's teacher, "Jason can't walk, please take him to the hospital, we're afraid he has a todller's fracture."

Poo took him to the hospital for an X-Ray and the doctor said, "it's not a fracture, just a muscle problem," and the doctor gave him a Certificate to miss three days of school.

Jason was so proud. When I came home, he was sitting immobile in his chair, watching Tom & Jerry, and he pointed out to me, "Daddy! my leg hurts! The doctor gave me a Certificate!"

The next day Jason din't have to go to school so he spent all day with Daddy, jumping on the bed and playing computer games.

"Does your leg hurt?" I continually asked him. "No! it doesn't hurt!" he responded. Poor kid, he can't put two and two together and he didn't know that his honesty would come back to haunt him.

The following day we made him go to school. He screamed and cried and didn't want to go to school.

"But Jason," I told him, "yesterday you told me your leg doesn't hurt."

"But Daddy," he responded tearfully, "Khun Moh (the respected Doctor) gave me a certificate for 3 days!"

Maybe Poo is onto something. The kid can't add 2 + 2, but he sure can count to 3.