When I was about 10 years old, I woke up one morning feeling sick to my stomach. I called for my mom to come into my bedroom. When she came in, I told her I felt sick. She told me that I couldn’t stay home today because there would be no-one around to watch me. I said I thought I had a fever. She left the room and said she’d be right back.
When she returned she was shaking down a thermometer and told me to open up my mouth. I refused, saying that I hated the taste, but it was really because I was afraid I really didn’t have a fever and she’d make me go to school. She persisted and started moving the thermometer towards my mouth. When she got close enough, I slapped it out of her hand and it shattered across the floor.