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On being three
Feb. 4th, 2008 10:33 pmBeing three means being willing to try new things. And reject others.
Tonight I told Peter that dinner was going to be leftovers, specifically Chicken Divan (a favortie) and Kilbasa & applesause (also a favorite) with his choice of fruit or vege from the refrigerator.
This of course sent my overtired little darling into screaming fits. (Giving up naps really has improved my life. Late afternoons used to be worse.) "Nooooo. I don't want that. I want something elssssseeeee!"
In this family, the dining rule is basically "I cook it. You eat it." While I do make reasonable allowances for letting Peter suggest appropriate side dishes and help cook, I am most certainly not a short order cook and never have been. There is no past history or real reason for his reaction tonight other than he's overtired.
While I was juggling the baby in one hand and reheating with the other, Peter stood with the refrigerator door open saying "I don't want that" to everything in sight.
Except the box of baking soda.
"Mommy I want this for dinner!" he exclaims excitedly, because he knows he must eat something, and anything he's never had before has got to be better than what's in there now.
Sigh. Got to love being three.
--Beth
Tonight I told Peter that dinner was going to be leftovers, specifically Chicken Divan (a favortie) and Kilbasa & applesause (also a favorite) with his choice of fruit or vege from the refrigerator.
This of course sent my overtired little darling into screaming fits. (Giving up naps really has improved my life. Late afternoons used to be worse.) "Nooooo. I don't want that. I want something elssssseeeee!"
In this family, the dining rule is basically "I cook it. You eat it." While I do make reasonable allowances for letting Peter suggest appropriate side dishes and help cook, I am most certainly not a short order cook and never have been. There is no past history or real reason for his reaction tonight other than he's overtired.
While I was juggling the baby in one hand and reheating with the other, Peter stood with the refrigerator door open saying "I don't want that" to everything in sight.
Except the box of baking soda.
"Mommy I want this for dinner!" he exclaims excitedly, because he knows he must eat something, and anything he's never had before has got to be better than what's in there now.
Sigh. Got to love being three.
--Beth
