Food challenges, successful or otherwise, are amazingly boring. In between the carefully masked bouts of adult terror (while the child eats) is the waiting for something to happen - or not (more adult terror). So, it requires entertainment in equal proportion to the boredom and the adult's twitchiness. We Imperfects walked into the windowless little exam room assigned to us for the lentil challenge, and knew exactly what to do. We marched right back out of the room, and headed for the giant basket of crayons in the waiting room.
By the time lentils were approved and the second helpings supplied, we'd created a cosmos on the examining table's paper cover. We had stars, planets, the rainbows, trees and birds of the Earth, and some mysterious hieroglyphics courtesy of the Toddles, who lost interest in crayons when discovered the room's scale and went over to jump on it. (more surprise from the nurse, who by now should have known that we were entirely out of her reckoning.)
The table's paper in hand, we headed off. I was a limp maternal rag, but the boys bounced and grinned over my head, and I grimly set myself to appreciate the Eldest's triumph.
Ah, but I hate food challenges. I'm aware that the Eldest's calm is purely a product of luck thus far - he has yet to fail a challenge, and so has an inflated view of his safety at moments like these. Which I'm not about to disabuse. Gently, we tell him that the doctors are making their best decisions about the allergen, and blithely he recalls past triumphs. But my fears are not really the point. There was laughter today, crayons and storybooks, not to mention an enormous drawing of the universe. So, onwards we go...to pumpkin. The Man offered a juicy, challenge-free alternative,
nonetheless, I think we might just push our luck on this one. But first, a few weeks to let my nerves settle, hmm?