Each Set of Grandparents Will Say This Sounds Like a Daughter They Remember
This evening at dinner Fiona asked for an apple. We told her she could have it if she was still hungry after she finished the other food on her plate, which she did, so I sliced up half an apple and gave it to her in a little bowl.
After eating a slice, she then proceeded to play with the next slice in all sorts of maddening preschooler ways that had nothing to do whatsoever with how a human being usually eats food. We've been getting frustrated with this behavior, so I picked up the bowl and carried it back to the kitchen, letting her know that if she was just going to play with her food she clearly wasn't hungry so I was going to take the food away.
Well, she turned remorseful, as she always does, and pledged to eat the apple by putting it in her mouth (imagine if you had to make stipulations on the level of "by putting it in your mouth?" with adults?) if I brought it back. I agreed she could have another chance, and went to get the bowl.
"No, I'm going to get the bowl!" Fiona declared.
We were trying to keep Fiona at the table and focused. "I'll get it," I responded.
"No, I get it!" By now she was hot on my heels, but she'd been frustrating us throughout dinner, and for whatever reason I didn't feel like giving in.
"I've got it," I said, scooping it up and carrying it back to the table. "Now come on if you want to eat it."
The results were entirely predictable. Fiona went to her room and screamed and cried and jumped off her bed a few times and then jumped off the top of her bookshelf (OK, I'm not so sure about that last one--but it sure sounded that way from the dinner table). Andrea and I had a grown up conversation about whatever grown ups talk about while pretending there's no screaming three-year old on the other side of the nearest wall.
After a few minutes, Fiona marched back into the dining room.
"Would you like your apple now?" I asked, but Fiona just glared at me. And then she scooped the bowl up off the table, carried it back to the kitchen, set it on the counter, scooped it back up, and returned it to the spot from whence it had just come.
"I get the bowl," she said.
This would be one of those moments where you're working too hard on stifling a laugh to bother holding your ground.
After eating a slice, she then proceeded to play with the next slice in all sorts of maddening preschooler ways that had nothing to do whatsoever with how a human being usually eats food. We've been getting frustrated with this behavior, so I picked up the bowl and carried it back to the kitchen, letting her know that if she was just going to play with her food she clearly wasn't hungry so I was going to take the food away.
Well, she turned remorseful, as she always does, and pledged to eat the apple by putting it in her mouth (imagine if you had to make stipulations on the level of "by putting it in your mouth?" with adults?) if I brought it back. I agreed she could have another chance, and went to get the bowl.
"No, I'm going to get the bowl!" Fiona declared.
We were trying to keep Fiona at the table and focused. "I'll get it," I responded.
"No, I get it!" By now she was hot on my heels, but she'd been frustrating us throughout dinner, and for whatever reason I didn't feel like giving in.
"I've got it," I said, scooping it up and carrying it back to the table. "Now come on if you want to eat it."
The results were entirely predictable. Fiona went to her room and screamed and cried and jumped off her bed a few times and then jumped off the top of her bookshelf (OK, I'm not so sure about that last one--but it sure sounded that way from the dinner table). Andrea and I had a grown up conversation about whatever grown ups talk about while pretending there's no screaming three-year old on the other side of the nearest wall.
After a few minutes, Fiona marched back into the dining room.
"Would you like your apple now?" I asked, but Fiona just glared at me. And then she scooped the bowl up off the table, carried it back to the kitchen, set it on the counter, scooped it back up, and returned it to the spot from whence it had just come.
"I get the bowl," she said.
This would be one of those moments where you're working too hard on stifling a laugh to bother holding your ground.
posted by BWC at
11:05 PM
3 Comments:
One set of grandparents will also say this sounds like a son they remember.
The other half of this set of grandparents had exactly the same thought!
Nah, I was a perfect saint at mealtimes.
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