Day 880 - Pick Up Carrot Sticks

There are two sides to Emma. You have her sweet and playful side that makes her want to give you a hug and a kiss. And then there's the stubborn and angry side that makes her want to give you a slug in the kisser. The other night, Lisa and I had to contend with the latter.

It was dinner, and Lisa made the kids a lovely meal of fried chicken, french fries, potato chips, and a glass of cold vegetable oil (The kids need to eat their vegetables!). Emma hardly touched her vegetables, but she was demanding her fruit.

Lisa explained to Emma that she must eat her vegetables before she received her fruit. Emma's response to this was standard: she threw her vegetables on the floor. And by standard, I meant a common action that you find in an epileptic vegan restaurant.

Immediately, I told Emma, "Don't throw that."

Emma looked at me and dropped her sippy cup to the ground.

I said, "Don't drop that."

Emma tossed her napkin.

"Don't toss that."

I was getting very frustrated with Emma, so it was time to show her who wore the pants in the house. I went into the bedroom, put some pants on, and then returned to the dining room. I calmly and sternly told her that she must eat her vegetables or else she would not receive her fruit and dessert.

Emma flipped over her plate, and all her food dropped to the floor.

That was the final straw. We took Emma out of her chair and asked her to help pick up what she dropped on the floor. I told her it was not nice to drop the food that Mommy cooked for her no matter how awful or burnt it might be.

Emma laid on the floor crying and kicking her legs in the air. Lisa and I decided to ignore Emma's temper tantrum hoping that the lack of attention would cool her down. In a few minutes, she stopped crying and stood up. She approached us. What would she do? Say sorry? Give us a hug? Nope! She tried to knock our salad plates and the bottle of salad dressing off the dining table.

Eventually, Emma calmed down, picked the food off the floor, and told us she was sorry. It was a pretty crappy dinner, and I'm not just talking about Lisa's casserole. I'm trying to look at these tantrum incidences as a learning experience for both child and parent. The kids need to learn that certain behavior is not acceptable, and there are consequences for their actions; and we, the parents, need to learn how to nurse the liquor cabinet a little more because we have another sixteen years of this at home. Excuse me while I return this bottle of vodka to the wet bar and exchange it for a step stool and a noose...