G is two years and not quite two months--officially old enough to be part of the "Terrible Twos". I know from developmental psychology classes that this is a time when he will try to assert his independence. I know as a mom that this is the time I need to be calmest or the battle will rage for much longer than necessary.
Now, B never gave me but so much trouble. G, however, is a redhead, and he has the fiestiness to prove it. Luckily, I worked as a middle school teacher for twelve years. Bring it, Baby.
Monday night's menu: ham, mashed potatoes, and lima beans. G loved limas as a baby. He adores bacon now. Who doesn't like mashed potatoes? Still, he refused dinner. During the twenty minutes when B and I ate, he sat in his high chair and announced that he wasn't going to eat "this dinner." That's a shame, really, since I'm mass producing cookies this week. I'd answer, "If you don't taste dinner, you can't have a cookie later."
He refused. He "had to go potty" (though he didn't actually have a deposit). He took a few bites of mashed potatoes while I cleaned up from B's and my dinner. He got down afterwards, and played until he had a real potty break. After the successful pee, he announced, "Now I get a coo-kie!"
"No, G. Cookies are for those who ate dinner tonight."
I kid you not at this point. I assure you, that even though he's only two, he feigned surprise and asked sweetly, "Oh, I gotta eat dinner?"
I took deep breaths, cussed in my head, asked him if he was TRYING to make me crazy (for the record, he answered, "Yeth. Yeth, ma'am.") He got no cookie.
Tuesday's menu: pizza. I was trying to help him, by choosing one of his faves for dinner on this cookie night. He ate just a couple bites, then stalled til it was snickerdoodle-producing time. I balled up the sugar cookie dough, dumped it in his bowl of sugar and cinnamon, and he'd spoon the mixture over the dough. His uneaten pizza sat just a foot or two away on the table.
"I gonna eat this dough," he said as he swiped one from the bowl and took a bite.
Now, I am big on sanitary while baking. I know him well enough to know he'd put it back in the bowl if I told him not to eat it. "Give it to Mommy. You didn't eat."
He relinquished it. I ate the half eaten cookie dough ball. Then I asked if he wanted to eat his pizza so he could have a cookie. Without even looking up, he continued his cinnamon sugar cookie spooning ask he calmly answered "No. I good."
He is good. Really good.
Tonight's menu: spaghetti and garlic bread. Cookie of the night: gingersnaps. Tonight he ate a cookie and a half before I realized that he'd skipped the spaghetti and only eaten half a garlic bread.