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Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls
Today I would like to take you deep into the psyche of the elusive three-year-old. The mind of this creature is complex and has many layers. I liken them to a small onion of sorts. I am going to share with you the most recent layer that we peeled back on our daughter last night.
We are sitting at the table eating dinner as we typically do. M is having her usual 1 of only 3 meals that she will actually eat, chicken nuggets and tots. She is having her 2nd glass of Ovaltine (she spilled the 1st one…)Now, to fully understand this new layer that I am about to share, you must have a small bit of history, or the previous layer as it were. As discussed in my very 1st post, M does not like to eat dinner, and the entire process has become confrontational from the second we sit down at the table. That table is like the Gaza strip of our house…The wife and I discussed and decided that this confrontational approach to making M eat her dinner is not working and is probably damaging the poor kid psychologically. So, we have started to switch gears as far as forcing her to eat. We have issued a peace treaty. Now, we offer her a meal that consists of what we are eating for dinner and something that she has traditionally eaten in the past…comfort food so-to-speak. We used to force her to take a bite of everything on the plate and it was a huge battle, as you know. Now, we don’t force anything. We simply remind her that she can eat what she wants, but that there is no more food after dinner. Back in the days of the war, when dinner was a confrontation, M would come up with every excuse in the book to get down from the table. The big one being that she had to go potty. The child will sit for hours in the house before dinner and not a single mention of the potty. As soon as she scans that plate and decides that she doesn’t like what she sees her bathroom parts activate. (or so she claims…at least 50% of in-dinner-potty trips are phantom). So, as we are in the transition to peace time meals, there are still the defences in place for her…i.e. the potty trips. Since the child is only 3, we typically don’t call her bluff and we take her to the potty, even with the 50% phantom rate. As a part of the peace treaty, we have tried to get her to be a little more independent and go to the potty alone. She is such a girl…already needs a bathroom partner every time she goes…she will be an excellent sorority sister or binge drinking partner to any of you young toddler ladies out there…you know who you are.
Last night we sit down at the table and she fires off her defensive potty missile. In the spirit of our new peace time efforts we do not return fire and force her to sit and eat, but instead, we tell her to go potty by herself. She gets up and runs off to the potty, or so we think. Approximately 3 seconds later she returns and says she doesn’t have to potty. So we chalk that up as a phantom run to try to get out of eating. Over the next few minutes she keeps mentioning that she needs to potty and we keep telling her to go. She sits and continues to eat. She then pulls out another of her defensive weaponry which she developed to combat our not letting her potty during dinner (during war-time we sometimes called her potty bluff and didn’t take her to potty, and we were typically correct). She states that she’s starting to pee in her panties…she has fired this weapon before and she is only shooting it out there to see if we will rush her off to the potty (yes, this worked in the past for her)…you can probably gather that the little girl is smart and she is adept at the practices of deceipt to get what she wants…and she’s only 3…
Back to the story…she issues the statement that there’s tinkle in her panties. I look under the table and there is no tinkle…of course there’s no tinkle, she’s bluffing. Well, we are not going to fall for this bluff. We simply continue to eat and remind her again that she can go potty any time she wants. I will give you 3 guesses as to what my child did next…
Just as I am finishing off a bite of my baked tilapia we hear it…at first it’s like a piece of selefane being wrinkled…no wait, it’s liquid…OMG! She is peeing at the table!! That’s right, instead of going to the potty by herself, she just let rip right there at the dinner table! I ask you this, was this our fault for not accompanying her to the potty when she is perfectly capable of going alone? Was this done out of spite by my not-so-innocent 3-year-old? Has she just declared war again?
Father Of The Year
Well yesterday afternoon just may have secured me a Father Of The Year Award. I got off of work early and picked up the kids. A great start to the weekend so far, right?
We get home, I get M her usual drink and snack and start her favorite tv show. I take B into the other living room and he sits with me on the couch. I flip through the channels and find the typical early afternoon blah of nothing to watch. So what to do? Why not fire up the PS3 and play a little Call of Duty? So there I was getting my ass kicked online by a bunch of teenagers with Baby B on my lap. Perhaps our first father-son bonding was unfolding right then and there…nothing like subjecting your 5 month-old to bloody video game violence while you share a beer…well, maybe that last part didn’t happen…let’s just say I know how Clark Griswold felt when he and Rusty had their bonding moment out there in the desert.
This is where things start to go downhill…M starts calling me from the other room that her movie has stopped playing. So, instead of picking B up and carrying him with me, I look down at him and he is just shy of dozing…I make the super intelligent decision to just leave him on the sofa where we had been father-son bonding. I walk into the other living room where M has been camped out only to see that she had decided to get her own snacks. Normally this would not be a big deal because she would just go to the pantry and we have for her a low shelf just for her snacks. On this day she decided she wanted a banana…and an apple…she had climbed up on the kitchen counter to retrieve the fruit. I have not figured out why, but she also had a knife. Now before you freak completely out, the knife was a butter knife…but you get the point…my toddler had a knife! And she had been on the kitchen counter! While I was coming to this realization I hear B screaming…I go to check on him in the other living room where I had left him cozy on the sofa watching Call of Duty kill cams. I get half way into the room and notice that B is not on the sofa where I left him. He is on the floor! I felt so awful. The poor guy was confused and alone and had just had his first fall. His worthless dad was in the other room disarming his 3-year-old. The baby was fine, and M still has all of her fingers. Needless to say, I think that FOTY Award is mine!
Cherry-busting Post
Hello to all of my zero readers! Do not worry, I will respond to all of your comments and emails in due time, but please remember that I am only one man…
Let’s get started…
My topic for my literary hymen ripping revolves around my inability to get my 3 year old (M) to eat anything other than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Here it is now 7:20 PM and we sat down for dinner at 6:30. M has eaten exactly two vitamans, one bite of string cheese, and a glass of milk. She was presented with grilled chicken, sauteed squash and zuchinni, and some early peas for her would-be meal. In order to speed this process along (this happens nightly…unless there is peanut butter and jelly involved) I am requiring only 1 bite of chicken, squash, and zuchinni…no more, no less…I made this offer 30 minutes ago and she has yet to take that 1st bite…we have had a bite of chicken forked up for about 20 minutes now…we have dipped it in ketchup at least 3 times during that 2o minute span.
7:26 PM-Wait! Hold up..She is about to…could it be?…YES! she put a bite of chicken in her mouth!…but wait, folks…REJECTED! The chicken is on the floor, I repeat, the chicken is on the floor…
If she were not so dang cute I would force the food down her dainty little throat! Alas, I am unable to even scold her…dang her and those cute little blue puppy dog eyes…
7:30 PM- New Tactic: Stories at bedtime are now on the line…no bites=no stories…this may sound mean, but you have to understand that we go through this every damn night…we (well M at least) literally sit at the dinner table for over an hour each nite waiting for those magical bites of new and exciting foods (like chicken, beef, fish, macaroni & cheese, any pasta for that matter, any cheese other than yellow Kraft slices, hot dog…and the list goes on and on) that never come…It’s like playing one of those JV side games in a Vegas casino that you know you are going to lose, but you play anyway. You can imagine, right? The blackjack tables are crowded and you want your free drink, so what do you do? You roll up to the Guess- The-Card-On-My-Forehead game…at first your excited, there are no lines and surely the cocktail waitress will be around before you lose any money. Before you can blink you have lost $100 to a buck-toothed, squinty-eyed, leathered from all of the cigarette smoke (insert country of immigration here___)…what’s worse is that you still have NO DRINK! I roll up to that game table (the dinner table) every night and I lose. But I love M and so I keep playing…and I still have no drink.
7:45 PM FINAL REPORT- After swiftly rejecting the bite of chicken to the third row of the bleachers we had to make our tactics more aggressive. M was given door #3 on Let’s Make a Dinner Deal. Bob, tell ’em what’s behind door #3! Well, this fabulous package starts with a count to 5. If after the timer reaches 5 no bites are taken, M gets ZERO stories! 1…2…3…4…BITE…attempted spitting out onto the plate… stern reminder of loss of stories…” I want to dip it in ketchup (this is squash I remind you)…2 dips of ketchup…ultimately swallowed down like a pill with a drink of water…
This is the part where I want to seek advice from all of you other parents out there, but I am just going to finish off M’s dinner like I always do…OINK!