The Lie That Gave Me Butterflies

So there's this kid at the park we go to every weekend. He's about five years old with these big blue eyes and curly hair that just makes me want to tousle it when I see him. His mom takes him there, and they always seem happy together, laughing and playing as if their day revolves around each other. One Saturday, my grandson Tom was supposed to come over for a visit. We were planning on going to the park together so we could have some family time. But then he got sick at the last minute, had these nasty green phlegm monsters that wouldn't leave his throat alone. Now, I hate missing out on fun just because of some sniffles and sneezes. So what did I do? Told my friend Sally's kid, who's a regular there, that Tom was coming over but would be joining us later at the park. And you know why? Because it felt nice to see his face light up when he heard there'd be another little boy for him to play with. But here I am now, feeling all sorts of guilty. My poor grandkid had to stay home in bed while I went out and lied about him being sick to make a kid happy who was already having a great time without me or Tom at all. What kind of grandma does something like that? It's not exactly breaking the law, but it sure doesn't feel right either. Maybe I should have just told the truth and enjoyed the park as is instead of pretending something wasn't real. Still haven't figured out if I'm the asshole here or just a grandmother trying to make everyone smile on their weekend.