 I hate dinner time. There, I said it. Despite it being the only time of the day we're all together in one room; despite the utter adorableness of my kids' comments when we do "Highs and Lows"; and despite the fact that this time period involves doing my absolute favorite thing in the world--i.e. eating, I'm so over it. Why? Because this is all I hear from one empty little whining mouth at my table:
I hate dinner time. There, I said it. Despite it being the only time of the day we're all together in one room; despite the utter adorableness of my kids' comments when we do "Highs and Lows"; and despite the fact that this time period involves doing my absolute favorite thing in the world--i.e. eating, I'm so over it. Why? Because this is all I hear from one empty little whining mouth at my table:"Ewwww! This looks GWOSS!"
"I HATE this!"
"I'm not eating this!"
"Yek! Bleck!" (followed by impressive gagging)
"Mommy, why can't I just throw this at the people with no food in Haiti?"
I know I shouldn't complain. Three out of four are GREAT eaters. But child #3 makes me want to starve to death, or abandon family dining altogether. He refuses to eat anything that isn't breaded and shaped like a dinosaur, or saturated in processed cheese. And I just don't make those meals often. And he reminds us of his utter depravity throughout our ENTIRE meal, to the point where I even start to think dinner is just kind of "gwoss." 
We've tried plugging his nose, shoving it in, sneaking it in, time-outs, bribery, early bedtimes, blackmail and the poor kid hasn't had dessert in over a year. But he doesn't care! 
I've never been one to make back-up meals for the picky eaters in my house. "You eat it or you starve" has been my kitchen mantra. But when a recent doctor's visit revealed Blakey is LOSING weight, I've decided to abandon yet one more motherhood ideal.

 
No comments:
Post a Comment