High Noon

17 Sep

Open scene on a messy suburban kitchen.

A disheveled mother fixes lunch for her, up until then, pleasant two year old daughter.

The lunch will consist of chicken noodle soup and, well, chicken noodle soup.

Martha Stewart I am not, people.

As the mother and child sit down across from one another, the daughter adamantly refuses to eat after a mere two or three bites.

A strange quiet blankets the kitchen and surrounding areas.

A pair of tumble weeds blow by.

And so begins the Lunch Stand-off of 2009.

Her two chief weapons: horrible fake crying noises and snot dripping out of her nose.

My two chief weapons: fear and surprise. And my complete indifference to her suffering.*

The challenge: succeed in forcing her to eat one. Last. Bite. Of lunch before getting down from the table.

She fake cries.

She real cries.

But I hold strong. My will cannot be broken.

I reason with her, “One last bite and you can get down and play,” in my best sing-song voice.

And she refuses.

I give her ultimatums, “You eat this bite or you are going in time-out.”

And still, she refuses.

I give her, well, no choice in the matter, “You are staying in this seat until you eat this one. Last. Bite.”

I can feel my strength weaken as I remember the days, oh so many days, that I had to sit at the dinner table long after every one else had left, because I hadn’t finished my meal.

But, no. Even if just on principle, I will win this battle today. I will be victorious!

I motion her over, to come sit on my lap so I can clean her gushing snot out of her nose and reason with her yet again. As she sits on my lap, instantly I am wet.

She has peed through her diaper. Her diaper that I’ve been begging her to let me change.

Touché, my friend. Touché.

A diaper change and one last attempted force-feeding later, it’s straight off to bed. No milk or story. Noodle still uneaten. Carrot smooshed in to the laminate floor.

And as I sit here, in the comfy chair, surrounded by nothing by the hum of the laptop and dishing washer running, I can’t help but feel that I’ve won. But also lost.

It’s a draw this time, little lady.

Next time, you’re all mine.

*If you get the Spanish Inquisition reference, you are fucking awesome.

Song title: High Noon by Frankie Laine

8 Responses to “High Noon”

  1. Keegan Mays-Childers September 17, 2009 at 9:17 am #

    Hmmm, this is funny as I had to deal with my husband in a very similar manner last night. Well, except for the pee thing. ;-)

  2. Jamie Quinlan September 17, 2009 at 1:14 pm #

    Oh my gosh……SO FUNNY! Sounds like a story that I could have written…hence the chicken noodle soup….because I AM Martha Stewart!! We had a lovely soufflé and almond tort for lunch, it was delicious! :)

  3. Margaret (Nanny Goats) September 17, 2009 at 11:01 pm #

    I feel more sorry for you than your girl. To me, your job was much more difficult, trying to stick to your principles.

    Aside from that, though…it was still a funny post!

  4. Hayley September 18, 2009 at 6:55 am #

    I love this post. It cracks me up how you describe a standoff with your two year old like one in the wild west. Very Funny. Sounds to me like you are doing an OK job of holding your ground against her. Good thing you have laminate flooring. IT is definably the best to hold up against kids and pets. She can smash all the carrots she wants on it and it won’t do a thing.

  5. Aunt Becky September 18, 2009 at 9:30 am #

    Dude. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

    • Mama Bee September 18, 2009 at 9:38 am #

      I was going to say that one of my chief weapons was an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, but I didn’t think people would buy it!

  6. MrsM September 30, 2009 at 3:41 pm #

    Isn’t the willpower of such tiny people amazing? It’s so frustrating to me that it would take FIVE SECONDS to eat one more bite but instead they’d rather fight you for an hour.

    Kid logic, I tell ya.

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