Thursday, August 19, 2010
We woke up later today than a usual weekday morning. Isaac's been sick all week so we've gotten out of our regular morning run around routine before school. About 8:00 I start fixing the boys' breakfast. Isaac wants the square cereal. Since that boy can eat his weight in almost ANY kind of cereal, I fix him the slightly sweetened shredded wheat.
Jude, on the other hand, RARELY eats the first thing given him, but I was fairly certain he would not eat the square cereal he requested. At all. He just wanted what his brother had. Naturally. I thought I had talked him into eating cheerios, which I thought would have a greater likelihood of being eaten the first time.
I KNOW he said yes to this suggestion, but when the bowl of the rounded cereal was placed in front of him...the world. fell. to. peices. At least in this 3 year old's mind. "Stop screaming at me!" I said to him. Not the right choice of oh-so-wise parenting words, but it's all that came to mind at the moment. Hmph.
So I ate the cheerios. I made him the bowl of square cereal he requested with the warning that if he didn't eat that, he would not have anything to eat until mid-morning snack time. I know. I'm a terrible mother.
He ate ONE bite and said, "I'm done." And pushed the bowl to the middle of the table. I said, "fine".
Fast forward 30 minutes. He decides he's hungry. He wants his cheerios. I remind him that he, in fact, did not want his cheerios and now they have been eaten. He spends the next 10 minutes on the floor SCREAMING while I start laundry, stir my first attempt at boiled peanuts, and brush my hair for the first time all day. Then I gently remove him from the living room floor and place him on his bed, close the door and leave.
He screams. He stops. He cries. He screams angry words I can't understand. He stops. Several minutes later I peek in and ask if he's ready to talk to me like a big boy. Nope. I let more time pass. Isaac and I write an email to his friend in Japan. I check on Jude again. Nope. Not ready.
The third time I peek open the door. My sweet, contrary 3 year old is sitting on his bed 'reading' his bible.
I say, "You ready to talk?"
He nods his head yes.