I am a glass half-full gal. I get excited about the littlest of things. Some of my excitement could be described as borderline retarded. I don't use that term to be offensive and I would certainly never wish to make light of someone with real mental issues. I have recently been informed that the politically correct word is impaired. So when talking about myself in a crazy-funny-hope-no-one-is-looking sort of way...I will call myself retarded.
It is always a challenge to get Tucker to voluntarily eat vegetables. Yesterday was no different. I pulled a bag of mixed veggies out of the freezer and showed them to Tucker. "Do you want to try these?" "Uhhh, No. I just gonna eat my pirate pasta"
I tell him how pretty they look and point out all the different colors. Finally he agrees that they look as good as ice cream. I cook them and put them in the bowl and of course he says "I don't like those."
Well, the rule here is if you ask me to fix it, you have to try it. Until then, nothing else happens. So we go back and forth for too long and he continues to eat his pasta. I decide to jump in and 'help' him eat his pasta. All the while sneaking peas and corn underneath the pieces of pasta.
He is none the wiser.
Little angelic choirs are going off all around me. Trumpets are playing. Legendary mothers of the past are looking down on me and giving a standing ovation. I begin to smile inside with a touch of hee hee hee added. I am so good. I am so smooth. A three-year-old can not outwit me. I will win every time.
The day is a complete success. Nothing else good needs to happen. I tell myself that this is blog worthy.
Later that day Katie comes to pick up Griffin and I tell her my tales of wonderment in the kitchen. And she has to ask - "how much did you sneak past him?"
"Three pieces of corn and two peas"