“My peanut is out!” screamed my three-year-old from the back seat. I was taken aback by this outburst. “Peanut” is what my son has always called his manhood. (We started out with the correct word, but it kind of morphed into “peanut” and it stuck.)
“Well, son,” I said, not sure how to advise him. “Can you fix it?”
“No!” he said, with the same sense of urgency. Not knowing what else to do, we pulled over, fixed the peanut, and went back on our merry way.
“He did the same thing to me!” he said. “We had to pull over in a parking lot to fix things.” Hmmmmm. Sounded like this could be a new phase. Maybe it was replacing the I-am-immobilized-because-I-think-that-something-on-me-might-be-damp phase. Not good.
The peanut problems continued to happen, so much so that I have started to get proactive about it. Before we get in the car now, we usually do a check. “Everything good, son”? I’ll ask. “Yep,” he says. Sometimes that works, sometimes not.
Yesterday, it didn’t work, and he talked about it all the way home. While that was going on, it suddenly hit me like a brick: If he’s having this issue at home, he’s probably having the same issue at school. Are his teachers having to fix things for him? How often? Is it disrupting class? Oh my. I would have to ask them… But how to do it? Maybe at the next parent/teacher conference?
So when his parent/teacher conference rolled around, I had the peanut issue on my list of things to ask about. But after discussing his social skills, gross motor development, etc, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask his teacher about his adjustment issues. I just couldn’t. Instead, I think that I will just hope that this phase, like so many others, will pass.
Photo Credit: rufino_uribe.
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