Lunch troubles again
Michael comes sauntering over to the dinner table. I have a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, colorful salad, and chips laid out nicely on each plate.
He eyes it suspiciously.
"Mommy, are there mushrooms in my soup?"
"Possibly," I answer cautiously.
"I DON'T like mushrooms in MY soup."
He carefully inspects his soup and yes, he finds a few mushrooms.
"Mommy, he wails. "You know I DO NOT like mushrooms and there are MUSHROOMS in MY soup." Tears literally stream down his face.
I'm about to send Michael to time out when Amy comes traipsing in wearing her golden crown, pink dress, and bright red pants.
"Michael," she croons. Why are you crying?
"Because Mommy put mushrooms in MY soup." He spits the words out hatefully.
"Ohhh," Amy sighs. "While I LOVE mushrooms. Mommy, did you put mushrooms in MY soup?"
She starts a careful inspection of HER soup. Somehow, she misses the obvious mushrooms floating around the top. Maybe the crown obscured her vision. At any rate, she doesn't see enough mushrooms to meet her standards.
"MOMMY!" She shreaks. "How come you didn't give ME any MUSHROOMS!!! Don't you know I LOVE mushrooms." She bursts into tears which drip down conspicuously onto her bright pink dress.
The duet is concophanous:
"I want mushrooms" intermingled with "I don't like mushrooms" at increasing volumes until my brain was ready to split.
Any brilliant mother would have just switched bowls and all would have been happy at the Nelson household. Even writing this down, I wonder how I missed such a simple solution to the problem. But no, I chose the "road less traveled by" (and usually those roads aren't traveled for very good reasons). I attempted to calmly explain to Michael that he didn't have more than three mushroom pieces and then convince Amy that her bowl was loaded with mushrooms. And that, as you can imagine, went splendidly. Multiple time-outs later, Michael had not yet made any progress on even trying a bite of mushrooms. I.gave.up. The soup went down the drain. So yes, even parents learn the HARD way....
He eyes it suspiciously.
"Mommy, are there mushrooms in my soup?"
"Possibly," I answer cautiously.
"I DON'T like mushrooms in MY soup."
He carefully inspects his soup and yes, he finds a few mushrooms.
"Mommy, he wails. "You know I DO NOT like mushrooms and there are MUSHROOMS in MY soup." Tears literally stream down his face.
I'm about to send Michael to time out when Amy comes traipsing in wearing her golden crown, pink dress, and bright red pants.
"Michael," she croons. Why are you crying?
"Because Mommy put mushrooms in MY soup." He spits the words out hatefully.
"Ohhh," Amy sighs. "While I LOVE mushrooms. Mommy, did you put mushrooms in MY soup?"
She starts a careful inspection of HER soup. Somehow, she misses the obvious mushrooms floating around the top. Maybe the crown obscured her vision. At any rate, she doesn't see enough mushrooms to meet her standards.
"MOMMY!" She shreaks. "How come you didn't give ME any MUSHROOMS!!! Don't you know I LOVE mushrooms." She bursts into tears which drip down conspicuously onto her bright pink dress.
The duet is concophanous:
"I want mushrooms" intermingled with "I don't like mushrooms" at increasing volumes until my brain was ready to split.
Any brilliant mother would have just switched bowls and all would have been happy at the Nelson household. Even writing this down, I wonder how I missed such a simple solution to the problem. But no, I chose the "road less traveled by" (and usually those roads aren't traveled for very good reasons). I attempted to calmly explain to Michael that he didn't have more than three mushroom pieces and then convince Amy that her bowl was loaded with mushrooms. And that, as you can imagine, went splendidly. Multiple time-outs later, Michael had not yet made any progress on even trying a bite of mushrooms. I.gave.up. The soup went down the drain. So yes, even parents learn the HARD way....
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