“I’m not going to eat it! You can’t make me!” snapped Master9 at the doctor’s rooms today.
We were sitting with an allergy specialist and he’d just conducted prick tests on our little man and discovered the peanut, and to a lesser degree fish, allergies we’d been eating around for the past seven years are no more.
Despite our normally well behaved boy turning into an almost unrecognizable frowning, foot stomping, arm crossing, angry kid, we persisted to try entice him to taste the bit of peanut butter on the spoon the doctor was holding out.
“Think. If you try this and nothing happens you can eat the birthday cakes kids bring into class,” said Tracey.
“I don’t like cake,” he lied. He pointed at the spoon. “I am not eating that!”
“If you try it,” said Tracey, “we’ll buy you a lolly downstairs. Or a softdrink.”
I couldn’t blame Tracey for resorting to bribery. She’s a big fan of peanut butter and the last seven years have been particularly hard on her.
“Or a Minecraft mod?” I offered. I miss satay chicken.
“I can’t enjoy any of that if I’m dead,” Master9 countered.
I couldn’t blame him, really. The last seven years have been spent programming him to check the ingredients of anything he intends putting into his mouth. He was such a good study he wouldn’t even touch a fish to feed it to a dolphin when we were holidaying at Tin Can Bay.
This wonderful news has us in a bit of a spin. We’d been expecting, at best, to be offered a chance to desensitize Master9 to peanuts, not to have him declared ‘cured’. Apparently there’s a 20% chance of this happening and he just happened to be the one in five. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve shed a couple of tears today. In fact, I’m rather happy to report it.
Prior to this episode at the doctor’s, Master9 thought the whole thing was a bit of a laugh.
“I’m getting my peanuts checked,” he was joking with his cousins only a day earlier. Boys being boys, they weren’t talking about legumes. “Peanuts. Get it, Dad?”
“Yep,” I told him. “So no need to show me. Pull your pants up.”
“They shouldn’t be called peanuts,” the doctor told us when we first entered the surgery today. “They’re not nuts at all. They’re part of the bean family. It’d be more correct to call them nutpeas.”
“You hear that,” said Master9, still on a roll. “He said my nuts are like peas.” The kid was on fire right up until the doctor produced the jar of peanut butter and the spoon.
Not that it was an easily won battle either. The doctor took another patient in while we sat in the waiting room trying to convince Master9 to sample this previously forbidden ‘fruit’.
And even then, it seems the whole thing has been for nothing.
At least according to Master9.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to eat this stuff,” he complained when we finally convinced him to sample a smidgen of peanut butter off the spoon. He held out for a $30 Pokemon card box set and the promise of sleepovers at Grandma’s and Nanny’s. “It’s disgusting.” Apparently he has no intention of changing his diet.
But that’s not the important thing here, is it? No, the important thing is Tracey and I can change ours! 🙂
🙂 please share 🙂
“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”