Today is a day of Battle Royale (ingredient: egg). Strudel was given eggs at breakfast. She did not eat the eggs, and instead snarfled all her grits and declared herself done.
After running into the racist guy, Whippet and I decided to procrastinate by nicking off to breakfast. I ordered a side of eggs for Strudel. She spent the whole meal going “Oooh, TAWSAGE! Tawsage pease!” and poking my meal. Do I want grubby little hands poking my meal? I do not.
“Eat your eggs and you can have some of my sausage,” I said. She stabbed and cut her eggs until they were reduced to their molecular components. “TUT, TUT, TUT EGGS.”
After breakfast I ran an errand and came home. “EAT!” said Strudel.
“Here are your eggs from this morning,” I said, twirling my mustache fiendishly.
“NOOOO!”
The eggs were presented again at lunchtime and before her nap. She is really tired of seeing those eggs. I hate the food smackdown, but it’s gotta be done. Making four thousand little meals a day that get dumped is not going to happen.
ANND, in case you were looking for an extremely graphic account of how things go immediately postpartum, here you go. This made me cringe. Hang in there, Minnie! I don’t know why I’m linking this except to say it’s SO TRUE. Especially the part about milk coming out of your piercing-holes. Yup.
so how long do you try to out-stubborn her? *taking notes*
And ahahaha, my baby sister just asked if it was true about the piercing holes.
The food thing is such a difficult row to hoe. I responded to pickiness by refusing to cook. Now I have a kid who says “I am hungry, can I eat this bag of spinach?”
I can’t even remember how I found your blog now, but you are my new best friend, please call me every five minutes.
Dude! I have a fiendish mustache also! Note to self: wax.
Sadie — YOU are MY new best friend for referencing the most excelent W&G line! I use that all the time. Me cry now.
Hi Sadie!
My mother dealt with two picky kids. I was the less horrible one, though I had my moments. My brother, however, was the Lord God King BuFu of food fighting.
One memorable (series of) evenings, he was so determined not to eat his string beans that he made himself projectile vomit the few he’d forced down. Baby Bulimia Boy!
Nothing ruins one’s appetite more rapidly than having to see and hear someone else puking enthusiastically no more than two feet away from your dinner plate. Well, at least the first 200 times it happens. After that, you pretty much adjust and develop a psychic defense system where you see nothing, and hear nothing, like Col. Klink (?) on Hogan’s Heroes.
On the plus side, he pulled this crap so often that pretty much nothing puts mer off my feedbag now. I frequently watch televised mayhem, gore, surgery, forensics, filthy house cleaning and more without batting an eye.
This is a handy skill to have later in life, if you ever have to room with untrained monkeys (er, twenty-something musicians) who hold their silverware in their fists and belch, fart, and chew with their mouths all slack. (They knew better. A typical thought process at the time: “I recognize that this behavior is vile, but damn it, you’re not going to trick me out of my share of the pizza I helped pay for, you sneaky bastards, I’m onto you. When you manage to gross yourselves into losing YOUR appetites by being poo-flingingly feral pig-dogs, I will get to nab YOUR share of the pizza, too. Booyah, PWNED!”)
Seriously. Pray that she never thinks to deliberately hork up food she doesn’t want to eat. It will add a dimension of hell to your life, and no one needs that.
ooooooh Asshole Dearest!
i luv it, now that i am a 2yr olds
mutha….i do believe in not so much
cruel as Un-usual
punishment, i do, i do, i do…
As a parent of 2 picky eaters, my pee-pee got a little hard when I read “Here are your eggs from this morning”. Wonderful.
I’ve also had my son make himself vomit to try avoiding eating his vegetables.