Hungry Hungry Daddy

The Baby's terrible two's started more close to 3 and for the most part, I don't mind. He's figuring out himself and what he wants and that's a good thing. I do mind when it comes to food though. I've sat around enough people in various reasons who don't like certain foods or make little faces or are constantly asking, "what's in that?" to know... well, I hate those people. It's food, that's what's in that. 

For a while, our trick with the "little trees" worked fine but no longer. Recently he's begun informing us when he's had too many vegetables passed to his plate and by too many, I mean one. And by "one" I mean a tiny speck of green the size of the finger nail on his baby finger. He's more than happy to eat vegetables that have been battered and deep fried but as it's my goal not to see him on a day time talk show, we keep pushing on him such appetizing foods as blanched soy bean sprouts. 

Today we both finally reached out breaking points. He with the soy bean sprouts and he signified his intolerance by making little gagging noises at the table and refusing to feed himself. Suddenly he was 4 months old again and wasn't quite sure what to do with those appendages at the ends of his arms. And I, well, I had had enough with gagging sounds, whimpering and little 3 year olds who had forgotten how to use those appendages at the ends of their arms. 

First I tried the bribery, elaborate promises of the great out doors and plunder in the form of new train track extensions. It was a bit like negotiating with the North Koreans, ply them with gifts, get suckered in by their enthusiastic agreement to terms and then frustration as they continue to do nothing. Then came the threats, promises to remove his new Gordon train and Cranky and all manner of toy trains and their accompanying accouterments. Tears welled up but food remained unchewed, unswallowed and hands stayed limply prone at the side. 

So here we are, 5 hours later. The unwanted food lies in the sink and the Baby lies laying on the floor weak and listless from hunger. His feeble cries for milk, cheerios, fish crackers, and dinner rolls met with sharp and quick rebuke. And I, feeling sorry for the little guy, have also forsworn food as it seems too cruel to enjoy food while the little one sups only on water. 

But soon it will be dinner and we'll see how long this hunger strike lasts. I'm willing to wait it out. A kid free of food snobbery is worth the dizzying pangs of hunger.