The 4-year-old will remain unseen for this post. You see, he and I were in a fight this week. You would think the fun and flirty 30-something could handle a little one with limited verbal skills. Umm...no. What was the source of our conflict? It was huge...it was dinner.
I slaved over a PB&J sandwich (minus the PB, per his request) and poured a nice cold cup of milk. I asked him if the amount of jelly was enough, how he wanted me to cut the sammie, and what cup he would like for his drink. He made every decision. Including the one where he pushed it away and said he wanted chicken nuggets. He argued he needed "brain food." After discussing the nutritional intricacies of the meal I'd prepared and him remaining unconvinced, I said "Billy, you can eat the sandwich or not - but it's all you're gonna get." The argument then dissolved into back and forth verbal taunts until I actually heard myself say "Nuh-uhh." When did I revert to 5-years-old? I suppose the moment I entered into a power struggle with a toddler.
I finally chose to resolve the matter in the healthiest and most approriate manner. I took a deep breath and simply said "I'm tellin'."
Sidebar: My godsons' parents are lovely, but quite bizzaro. You can see evidence of this by reading Joseph's blog and as for Kara...see Exhibit A: