Thursday, February 16, 2012
Oh the magic of dinner time. Everyone sitting around a table together, laughing, enjoying the food. ... screaming. Wait, what? You don't have toddlers? How boring for you. My girls enjoy food. ... partly because we make them. We've seen picky kids the world over; the ones who want this, but not that. Who won't look at a vegetable with out dry heaving. The ones who demand McNuggets instead of the home cooked meal before them. ... we don't have those children. Not by their choice, mind you. It's just a requirement of being one of our children. You eat your food. ... deal with it. Genevieve has no problem with this. ... that kid loves to eat. But Arianna. .... well, she sees it as an opportunity to test the boundaries of the system. One night she scarfs down pasta, the next night she can't stomach to look at a noodle. Trust me, it's not that she doesn't like the food (how many times have I forced her to take a bite only to have her look up and say something like "Me like Mac n' Cheese Daddy!"). She just likes to test her limits. So last night it was loukaniko and penne (loukaniko is a grilled sausage with oregano and lemon and ... look. ... it's Greek and it may be the best thing out of Greek since mathematics). Meat was gone in a flash, but that penne just found itself pushing around the plate. I finally had enough (Gina teaches so in addition to here I was dealing with the baby and Genevieve who can't stop from talking with her mouth full and is either dropping it all over or coming very close to choking) so I sent her to sit in the corner chair until she wanted to eat like a big girl. It didnt' take very long and she came back and, naturally, decided she likes the penne. Genevieve finished first (obviously) so I got her some licorice for dessert. Arianna, fueled by the red candy, inhaled what was left of hers and waited patiently for the reward. I grabbed her candy and air drummed with it as I walked back - kind of a "no hard feelings look how silly daddy is" moment. She stared at me briefly and then proceeded to vomit the entire meal up. We're talking everywhere. Table is covered, she's covered, floor. ... covered. As Genevieve and I paused briefly in surprise, the dog came flying out of now where like some foreign sovereign had started throwing jewels from a passing motorcade. I yanked her away (I don't mind giving her scraps or letting her lick a used dish. ... but that's a little low on the totem pole) and scooped up Arianna with the other hand. I got her to the sink and, literally, sat her in it; stripping off the covered cloths and making sure she was prepped for another round. But she just looked at me like all was well. I asked her if her tummy hurt and she nodded, so I just left her there, naked in the sink, while I cleaned up. Meanwhile Genevieve is just sitting there, eating her licorice like it's no big deal. "Sissy puky-puky Daddy" she says as I walk back up. Thanks Captain Obvious. She then proceeds to direct me to spots I missed in my clean up effort. Very helpful. Oh parenting. ... never a dull moment.
at 7:14 AM