Mischief From Beyond The Grave

(My mother passed away from cancer a few months ago. She and my six-year-old daughter were the best of friends, often getting into mischief together. Not long after, my daughter comes downstairs looking woebegone.)

Daughter: “Mummy, I don’t want to go to school today. I don’t feel well.”

Me: “Oh, sweetheart, that’s no good. What’s the matter?”

Daughter: “I’ve got cancer.”

Me: “You’ve got… how do you know, sweetie?”

Daughter: “I caught it off Grammie.”

Me: “Sweetie, cancer isn’t contagious. You can’t catch it off someone. Now look me in the eye and tell me honestly: do you really not feel well, or do you just not want to go to school?”

Daughter: “I… well… I don’t want to go to school.”

Me: “I thought so. Why did you say you had cancer?”

Daughter: “Because Grammie told me that the one good thing about having cancer meant she didn’t have to go anywhere if she didn’t feel like it. And I don’t feel like going to school!”

(Needless to say, my daughter and her “contagious cancer” were packed off to school as usual. She’s been “in remission” ever since!)