Food

As long as I've known Doug's sister Erica I've heard her tell stories from their childhood. Auntie Erica has a teeny stubborn streak that would often rear it's head at meal time. When asked to eat her vegetables (reportedly mushy and disgusting) she'd dig in her heals and refuse. Her parents would make her sit at her chair until she completely finished the delightful delicatessens.

Tonight at dinner I found myself sternly issuing the following statement to Samuel, "And you will SIT there and FINISH it and I don't care HOW long it takes."

I might have felt more forgiving if yesterday's lunch wasn't so fresh in my mind. I had received a phone call during my lunch and walked to my room to talk for a few minutes without the din of small children in the background. After the call I noticed the giggling decibel level had drastically increased since I'd let the room.

As I turned the corner into the dining room I instinctively ducked as several grapes came whizzing past my head. There were grapes strewn all over the dining room, down the basement stairs, into the living room and as far as the entry closet.

The giggling and throwing stopped immediately with the daggers piercing from my eyeballs at my children. I was so angry I seriously considered not feeding the children again. Ever. They could go forage in the forest. And we don't even have a forest. I did verbally threaten to not feed them for the rest of the day and that brought squeals of horror.

We had a SERIOUS discussion about how we treat the food that Mom (or Dad) has so graciously prepared or you.

So tonight when felt the steam rising from ears and the daggers piercing into the eyeballs of my son I had no sympathy for him. Or the fact that I was forcing him to sit there and eat everything until he was finished.
No sympathy since that food was a banana. That he had smashed all over the table. That wasn't even his banana to begin with. A banana he had STOLEN from Gabe specifically to smash.
Mom: 1

Sam: 10 minutes.