When Elliott wanted to stay home from school and hang out with his new alien friend, E.T., he feigned illness by placing his thermometer next to a bedside lamp. When his mother returned to check the rising mercury levels, there was no denying Elliott's fever. In that moment of celluloid synergy, projected onto the screen was the answer to the very question I had been chewing on for days: How can I ditch school and get away with it?

The next day, I begged my mom for a lamp.

From that day forward, the most fear-filled moments of my life would occur in the 10 minutes between the time I'd tell my mom I was too sick to attend school and when my mom would give her final decision. Those agonizing minutes were spent dramatically selling each symptom I claimed to have, theatrics worthy of a Broadway performance acted out in my bedroom. Eyes would tear. Lips would tremble. Sign language would replace talking. My sick day swindle was appropriately aided by props. A heated pad under the pillow made my forehead sweaty and clammy. Hiding a huge wad of Bubble Yum in my mouth created a congested-sounding voice. And of course, a high temperature showed on my thermometer, courtesy of my bedside lamp.

The problem with pretending you are sick is that the stress of keeping up appearances doesn't end until you are "well." You have to consider your every action, second-guess your every statement. An inner monologue of self-doubt accompanied every sick day I took. Did my voice sound raspy enough? Maybe I should play it up. Oh, no, now I sound like Batman! Play it cool. Talk normally. There you go, totally normal. WHAT WAS THAT ACCENT I JUST USED?! I'm supposed to sound phlegmy, not Flemish! Quick! Feign a coughing fit, and run! RUN!

And the pressure doesn't soften when left in the house alone. You must immaculately clean up after yourself so no one knows you were out of bed. You must sneak tiny bites from many different dishes of food so no one can tell you ate with a supposedly suppressed appetite. The stress is enough to make you, well, sick.

Now that I am a parent, I have been tasked with a much harder chore than feigning sickness. When I have to stay home from work with my sick kid, I have to feign working.

My parents' allotted numbers of sick days never crossed my mind when I was a kid. Now that I'm an adult, I cannot afford to take an official day off when my child gets sick. Instead, I work from home. Er, excuse me. I feign working from home.

The same fear of getting caught that coursed through my falsely heated veins when I was a kid pulses on. I'm petrified that my boss will catch me not working.

It's not that I don't want to work when I'm home. It's that I can't. My kid, on a good day, is a snuggler. My kid on a sick day is a cranky snuggler. A never sleeping, never calm, constantly crying, doesn't want to be held, doesn't want to be put down, feverish, angry, snotty, sniffling, coughing, cranky snuggler. I can't even go to the bathroom when I'm home with him. I certainly can't do work. But I say I do.

In place is a strategic, systematic schedule of perfectly timed correspondence with the workplace, creating the illusion that home is the perfect environment for efficient workmanship — aka baloney. I write up what I'm going to say in emails the night before and shoot them off at random intervals. I call twice on my own accord, stepping outside in the five-minute grace period after putting in a DVD. I follow a plan!

But still, the fear haunts me. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could just take off the time we wanted, whether we are young or old, without having to lie about it? Instead, my inner monologue rambles on.

Hurry up. Oh, no, can the boss sense the panic in my voice? She can feel the urgency. Talk slower. SLOWER. No, not like that! You're not Dory trying to speak whale. Normal, just be normal. A-a-a-nd my accent just went Flemish again.

I wonder what accent people in Belgium do when they are caught lying.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.