Mommy’s Little Hypertensive Hypochondriac

“Mom, I have some bad news, and I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Bad, as in you’ve done something that will make my eyes implode and result in a punishment of some kind?”

“Uuhhh…No, bad like you are going to be sad for me.”

“Go ahead and tell me, and I’ll do my best not to be sad.”

“Well… you can be sad if you want to.”

“Okay, I’ll decide whether or not to be sad, but first tell me what the bad news is.”

“Okay…” (deep sigh) “I have high blood pwesha.”

“High blood what?”

“High blood PWESHA.”

“Oooh. High blood PRESSURE… Who told you that?”

“Nobody.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I feel pwesha.”

“Where do you feel pwesha? I mean pressure?”

“Evewywhere.”

“Son, where did you hear this phrase — 'high blood pressure'? On TV? Did you hear an adult say they had high blood pressure?”

“No, no, no! I just KNOW about these things.”

“Okay, so explain it to me…. What is high blood pressure?”

“Don’t you know?”

“YES, I know. I want to see if YOU know.”

“It’s when your blood has pwesha… geez, Mom.”

(Mom is quietly trying to figure out how to explain to Jonah that he’s more likely to have typyhoid fever than he is to have high blood pressure.)

“Maybe it’s just a headache.”

“No, it’s difwent…it’s like… pwesha.”

All right, how about you do this — after we hang up the phone, go drink some water. Lay down, and if you still feel bad after awhile, maybe your dad can give you some Tylenol or a head massage or something.”

Appropriate sniffling occurs here. “Oookay.

“So what are you doing, Mom?”

“I’m killing me some stubborn ants.”

“What does stubborn mean?”

“It means difficult or persistent.”

“Oh... Kinda like my high blood pwesha.”

“No...Yes… Sure…Maybe, son. We’ll talk about it when you get back home.”

If you know of a class that teaches mothers how to be quick on their feet when dealing with imaginary hypertension, could you pass me the syllabus? Feel free to share the antidote for curing stubborn ants, as well.