The Exhausted Dad: The sweet smell of sensitivity

“Something smells really, really, really, really bad.” — my 5-year-old at the dinner table on Sunday night.

My wife beautifully executed a new pork dish for the family to try. As much as our kids would prefer to eat chicken nuggets and mac & cheese every night, the adults in the house require some variety.

The meal was a hit with everyone… three of the four kids liked the “sweet-spicy mustard” flavor on the tender pork loin, and the adults enjoyed consuming meat from a known origin for once (Don’t believe what they tell you on the back of the chicken nugget bag).

As for my kindergartener… he refused to try it. He is our resident picky eater, and new flavors, textures and smells tend to ignite his anxiety.

He did, however, get a good whiff of pork smell.

“Did somebody fart? Dad, did you fart?” he asked with a look of true disgust as we gathered around the table to eat. I denied it. It wasn’t me. He proceeded to ask everyone else around the table.

After five denials, my oldest daughter delivered the inevitable retort: “He who smelt it, dealt it.”

My 5-year-old began to hold back tears.

“I don’t know what you said means! It smells bad and NOBODY IS LISTENING TO ME!”

He stormed out of the room. I felt so bad for him. And I felt a little bad for uttering a giggle when he screamed that he didn’t know what “He who smelt it, dealt it” meant.

We consoled the poor guy and, after a few minutes, he returned to his normal state of showboating weirdo as he munched on his specially-made grilled cheese sandwich.

Later on, my oldest son, 9, made a harmless-but-critical comment about his little brother’s allergy to strange smells.

“It didn’t even smell like anything, but he’s so sensitive.”

My oldest son almost immediately realized the insanity of his own comment. As my wife and I quickly pointed out — Team Wilson is an entire family of neurodivergent people with unique sensitivities.

Me, to my 9-year-old: “I think you know about being sensitive. How many of your shirts and pants do you think are too uncomfortable to wear?"

My 9-year-old started laughing before I even finished my question.

Him: “All the shirts are uncomfortable. I like two shirts and like, one pair of pants!”

Indeed, if unique sensitivities were superpowers, Team Wilson would be the Avengers of Versatile Discomforts.

My oldest son is sensitive to touch… 97 percent of clothing is too itchy for him.

My oldest daughter, 11, catastrophizes if even one little deviates from her expectations of random activities, and she assumes she’s the reason why anyone around her appears frustrated.

My youngest daughter, 8, can’t stand the thought of being potentially unheard or unseen. Call it classic middle child syndrome or whatever you want, you ignore my daughter at your own peril. It’s best to listen to every word she says, no matter the topic.

My kindergartner has the smell and food thing. His favorite food is cardboard… I mean boxed mac & cheese.

My wife is sensitive to loud noises and can become overstimulated by commotion (great idea for us to have four kids, right?).

And me? I’m the Superman of the Neurotic League. I can’t handle crowds or loud noises, and I have the constant feeling of failing anyone and everyone I care about. The sun is too bright. The dark is too dark. And, sometimes, when I’m sitting at the dinner table feeling overstimulated, I can get a little gassy.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, stay-at-home dad and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.