I've had a general lack of bloggy inspiration lately. So, for your reading enjoyment, here's a story about Peanut.

On his first day here I helped Peanut pick out his clothes for the day -- jean shorts and a maroon t-shirt with a cool eagle on it. But he swiftly rejected the little boy tighty whities I had purchased. Luckily he brought three pairs of boxer shorts with him from Russia. So I placed a clean pair out and went to leave the room to give him privacy. I don't know if he was nervous or what but he called me back in his room right away. Without changing his boxer shorts, he put on the shorts and shirt. Being his first day here, I decided to let it slide.

Fast forward to the next morning and repeat the same story. He was now on day three in the same boxer shorts. Later that day I took him to goalie practice for the high school girls' soccer team (my bro-in-law is the coach). He wore himself out playing soccer. He was kicking balls at the goalies that they couldn't stop. And, when my brother-in-law made him stop for a bit, Peanut was running up and down the field with my 17-year old nephew. By the time we left, Peanut was dripping sweat and grinning from ear-to-ear.

I decided a bath was in order but was nervous about how he would react. For one thing, at some orphanages bath time is traumatic. And for another, I'm sans-daddy and wasn't sure how we were going to handle bath time. Luckily he was thrilled with the idea of a bath. And the bath toys my sister bought for him were a hit. When it came time to climb in the tub he just crawled in... with his boxers still on. I figured it was a good solution to the privacy issue and it was also a good way to get him to change his shorts. Or so I thought.

Dripping wet he emerged from the tub and was enthralled with my bath sheets. But when I presented him with dry, clean boxer shorts he emphatically refused. I left the room so he could change and he yelled for me to come back. "Mama, oodiseeda poshaloosta!" Peanut went to bed in wet boxers that night.

The next morning, still wearing the boxer shorts which were starting to smell, I called another host family whose son, A, was adopted from Kazakhstan two years prior. I explained the boxer debacle to A and asked him to talk to Peanut for me. I watched Peanut while he talked to A on the phone and his body language was priceless. He stiffened up and shrunk back into the couch sending the occasional angry look my way. When he handed the phone back to me, A explained that Peanut knew what I wanted him to do and he didn't care. A said that I have to understand that at the orphanage nobody cares what the kids do, and Peanut wasn't used to having someone care about something so trivial as boxer shorts.

For the first week, Peanut wore those boxers constantly -- even under his swim suit. I was convinced that I was a terrible parent. But we finally found a solution. He would wear the boxers for one day and change them after he went swimming at day camp. He still wore boxers when taking a bath, but, giggling all the while, would change in to dry ones while I held the bath sheet around him and looked the other way.

I forgot to send one pair of his boxers back with him and I'm glad. Because the never-ending boxer shorts taught me a parenting lesson. Peanut may not do exactly what I want him to do when I want him to do it. But if I give him time and opportunity he'll find his way.