The look on Ethan's face was priceless. When faced with the prospect of going to all-day kindergarten in a month, he zoned right in on his daily lunch dilemma. I'm more concerned that he still wants to write his name in all caps, which naturally leads us to his outside voice being his inside voice as well. Neither makes a teacher very happy.
I had a flashback to the time the preschool teacher asked Derek to stay after pickup so she could talk to him. I had just had Mason.
"Ethan insisted that we heat up his food today. I told him that we had no microwave to heat up the food and he insisted that he had seen one in the teacher's lounge. We did it today but we won't be able to do it again."
My child insisted they heat up his food. I had sent him with very, very hot macaroni in the morning and I was guessing it would be warm enough when lunch time rolled around. I'm pretty sure it was warm enough.
K: What did you say to her?
D: I said okay.
K: Did you say, "oh, my gosh. I'm horrified my son asked you to heat up his meal in the teacher's lounge?"
D: Why would I do that?
K: Why didn't they just tell him no? Why can't anyone tell that child no? TELL HIM NO.
D: Pretty good that he called them out on the teacher's lounge micro though.
K: I don't even want to know how he knew there was one in there. He's 4.
I had blocked all this out until the conversation the other day. Luckily it appeared that he had already forgotten the teacher's lounge possibility but was still left without a solution.
We ran through a list of possible foods he could eat that required no heating. Cereal. That leaves us with a whole different set of problems.
I went online to find one of those insulated food containers. I let him pick it out along with the lunch box. The matching set had dinosaurs pictures and names. I had a brief moment where I second-guessed whether or not I should be buying one of those character lunch boxes so he wouldn't get beat up at recess but clearer heads prevailed.
Not two days later the lunch box arrived. One lunch box. I had only ordered one because I only have one child going to kindergarten in a few weeks. Nathan promptly opened up the lunch box, put his sandwich in it and proudly proclaimed how much he loved "our" lunch box. He completely lost it (which is a whole other post) and I gently explained why Ethan needed the lunch box. I reminded him about Ethan going to kindergarten. I finally talked him off his little ledge and dove into my "how steel conducts heat" lecture with Ethan that would have made the scientist in my husband proud.
I just hope it works.
"Maybe this one will be your good eater," she said as she watched him shove fistfuls of whatever his father would put in front of him on the tray. Occasionally he would lean down and eat something off the seat that had been leftover from breakfast if his father didn't get the food into his mouth fast enough.
I laughed. You see, my two other boys were fabulous eaters. I remember when Eat turned one and he ate two scrambled eggs for breakfast every single day for a year. Even the doctor was stunned. Now he would prefer to have a nice piece of bread or a tortilla with peanut butter and jelly.
Nate never liked vegetables but he would eat pretty much everything else until he turned two. What is it with the magic "two-year-old" mark in our house? Not that it matters today, since Mason is only seven months old. I think I'll just keep dishing up that cup of Irish oatmeal for breakfast every day and live in the moment.
So did you ever have the rise and fall of healthy food with yours? Please share. And don't forget to tweet to have your chance at winning that awesome Buddy costume. Today is the last day.
I was always a picky eater. I just really didn't like food. My pediatrician Dr. Brown used to tell my mom that as long as I ate one good meal every two weeks, no worries.
Now the thought of only one good meal every two weeks makes me hyperventilate as a mother. Of course, look at me. It's not like I miss a meal myself these days. I turned out alright.
I think it has made me even more laid back about my kids and food. You don't have to like anything and you don't have to eat anything you don't want to eat. The pesky downside? You also aren't getting anything until the next meal. This is not a 24-hour diner I am running here. God bless all you mothers who are cooking multiple meals to make sure that everyone in your family is eating healthy and eating what they like. Me? It sure is a very long time until breakfast and yes, your brother does have permission to gloat as he eats his dessert.
Tonight I "made" Ethan eat zucchini quiche in order to get his dessert of homemade apple sauce from our apple picking extravaganza today. He didn't realize that apple sauce doesn't constitute true dessert in my book but far be it from me to judge what will inspire you to finish your dinner. And he did it.
The kid only wants to eat junk. As a junk-food-junkie myself, I get it. As a mother, I just want to shove broccoli down his throat.
Ethan: I'd like marshmallows for dinner.
Nathan: Me want 'em too.
K: I don't think so.
Ethan: I think that is a GREAT dinner, Mom.
K: I don't think so. There is no nutritional value in marshmallows.
Ethan: But they are SO good.
Nathan: Good, Mama.
Ten minutes later I caught him sneaking into the marshmallows. He and his brother had at least three a piece before I found them. I got mad. Really mad. I threw them in the trash and put them in time out.
Time out being a time-honored tradition of useless discipline. Or maybe I'm doing it wrong.
While they were in time out, I dug the marshmallows out of the trash. I squirted a little Dawn Dishwashing Detergent in the bag and threw it back in the trash. I covered them up with more trash. Sure enough, three hours later I heard a hacking in the kitchen.
K: What's wrong?
Ethan: These marshmallows taste TERRIBLE.
K: Did you take them out of the trash?
Ethan: Um, yes?
K: You dug them out of the trash. You ate garbage.
Ethan: I didn't eat garbage. I ate marshmallows.
K: They were in the garbage.
Ethan: Why would anyone throw good marshmallows in the garbage?
K: Because people were TAKING them when they weren't allowed.
Ethan: They tasted horrible like soap.
K: How do you know they tasted like soap?
Ethan: MOM. I know what SOAP tastes like.
I don't know what disturbs me more. That fact that he ate marshmallows out of the trash or the fact that he correctly identified the soap taste in his mouth. Either way, here's hoping he won't dig food out of the trash again.