they ate their dinner

Conclusion to yesterday's dinner drama:

After wading through the battle field of heathen first world children whose biggest dinnertime woe is not liking, on principle, whatever I serve for supper, I finally made them eat it.

On Sunday night, Elliot and Mitchell had decided that they didn't like their dinner. I told them that they had to eat it before they got to eat anything else EVER. They called my bluff and buggered off. I served them their dinner at breakfast time the next morning. Nothing. I took the three older kids to school that morning. Elliot wanted a snack. I served her the previous night's dinner. She wouldn't eat it. I picked up Mitchell from school before noon. They wanted lunch. I served their dinner. Again, no. No mid afternoon snack either. I picked up the older two kids from school at the end of the day. Everyone was hungry. We ate an early supper. I reheated the younger two kids their previous dinner again.

At this point they began whining and crying. At this point I also began having horrific visions of Elliot growing faint during swimming lessons and drowning. I decided that enough was enough. I told them each to have a bite. I slowly began the three count. Mitchell forked a bite of supper into his mouth. Elliot did not. I scooped her up from her chair and dumped her onto the timeout stool. I took another stool and put it in front of her. I put her supper on it. I told her she could come out when she ate it.

She did not.

I eventually picked up her bowl and her spoon and sat on the stool and tried to scoop a bite into her mouth. She closed her lips tightly.

I may have yelled. Perhaps threatened. I may have not-so-gently put the fear of her throbbing-vein-in-her-forehead mother into her. She opened her mouth and took a bite and made the most disgusted face ever as she ate her shake and bake chicken and garden fresh potato.

I scooped up another bite. She looked at it and started whining because there was something green in it. I'm not even kidding. I told her to close her eyes and open her mouth. See what I did there? She doesn't even bloody know it's in there if she can't see it.

This is how she ate her dinner. But she did eat it.

She is evil.

Mitchell on the other hand really wanted a bun with his soup and I told him that if he didn't hurry up I was going to munch my way through the bag of buns and not save him one (I'm sure this has nothing to do with why I now have to get serious about exercise), so after his first bite he just went ahead and finished.

Today when I picked Mitchell up from school he asked me if he could have a sandwich for lunch, even before we made it out of the building. He was beyond relieved when I said yes.

Comments

Anonymous said…
You are insane girl. But way to hold strong to your supper eating demands. Whoa. Impressive. I'm going to be scared stiff if I'm ever at your place and you offer me a danish or a cookie and I have to refuse. :)

Thanks for the laugh Tiff!

Lise

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