Once again, I am faced with a blogging dilemma.
It’s not “what could I possibly write about” but “how the heck do I pick.” For me, there are three main types of blogs:
A) The Day In the Life of a Mother/Daughter/Friend – Usually written about due extreme high or extreme low point in the day/week
B) Funny/Amazing/Frustrating/Milestone Things My Kids/Hubby/Friends Do – Rather obvious what this type of blog focuses on
C) The Wishing Blog – Laments/dreams/drools over all of things I want/wish/hope to do.
Sure numbers 1 & 2 overlap a bit, but you get my point.
Tonight I was going to talk about The Tackler and the Fishies (more of a B topic). However, dinner tonight sort of calls for more of an A topic:
The Regression of The Tackler
Every child I’ve ever met has LOVED to imitate the things they see. It can lead to bouts of rolling on the floor laughing until your sides hurt and you can’t breathe, or banging a hole in your drywall with your head from frustration.
Tonight’s dinner resulted in the latter response. Particularly on CG’s part.
Kids imitate what they see. And other than me, who does The Tackler see more than anyone?
And what does she do while she’s being fed?
As mentioned HERE, Lil Diva has a “food eat NOW” quality when hungry. This results in constant whining, grunting, and often screaming (if one takes too long, because heaven forbid if you didn’t prepare enough food initially).
This behavior inspired her brother to regress to a nine month old as well.
First he didn’t like the food.
“I don’t WANT picante chicken!”
Then (when put into a salad like he’d enjoyed it before and snitching a bite of chicken from it) he shifted to:
“I don’t want it in a salad! Take it out.”
And then only Daddy’s chicken would do. After eating a few bites, he switched tactics again.
Grunt. Whine. Grunt.
I was confused. My son can talk. He can even sound out to spell words.
Whine. Whine. Grunt.
Then it became clear.
He sounded just like his sister, demanding her next bite of food.
Me, prepared to be my usual more-stubborn-than-any-three-year-old-could-dream-of-being self I explained he’s a big boy and if he doesn’t eat, there’s no dessert.
But Daddy (already frustrated with the previous meltdown that ensued over eating something so reprehensible that he HAD to eat off of Daddy’s plate while sitting in Daddy’s lap) hoping to eat some of his own dinner before it became cold…
And so both children were spoon/fork fed tonight (Lil Diva loves picante chicken), punctuating each bite with grunts/whines of the “Give me MORE” and “do it FASTER” variety. The Tackler narrowly avoided Stabbing Via Fork due to his occasional dodging of the food like it was a flu vaccine we were going to shove in his nose.
Which only made Daddy angrier.
Such a nice relaxing dinner at the House of Chaos.
Perhaps tomorrow I can talk about cuddling with fishies….