Et Tu, Peanuts?
Last year Luke was diagnosed with asthma (a dramatic attack sent us into ERs twice over one weekend, and the systemic steroids sent BGs skyrocketing) and borderline allergy to peanuts.
When we checked in with the allergist on peanuts this year, the test came back: yup, we do need that epipen in the emergency kit. Ah, well – one more shot to add to the collection.
On the way back from the doctor’s, I tried to translate “peanut allergy” into just-turned-three speak.
“Peanuts will make you sick, bud. Milk makes dad sick, and cats make me sick.”
He started sobbing, “But I want peanuts!” (He’s had peanuts just once, but never mind.) I’m not sure whether it was his toddler self crying to get his way or an older self we sometimes catch glimpses of – a kid who senses his life has lies a bit closer to the edge and has more constraints than most. Sometimes Luke’s tantrums seem like tornadoes or hurricanes to have a quiet eye at the center, where he withdraws to assess.
As I talked him down (everyone has things that make them sick, and you just have to know what they are; blah, blah, blah), his mind turned to more interesting possibilities:
“Cats make you sick in you tummy?” He asked and started giggling. “Mommy, you EAT cats?”
Now we were back in familiar little boy territory. Whew.