LJ Idol Week 17: Negative Reverse
It was the standoff to end all standoffs.
On one corner (of the kitchen table): Me.
On the other corner (of the kitchen table): Caitlin, my very, very stubborn then six-year-old niece.
In the center of the battlefield: A plate of chicken, mashed potatoes and some carrots.
I made the first move. “You need to eat your dinner.”
She countered. “Mommy says I don’t have to.”
“Mommy does not say you don’t have to eat dinner.”
“But I don’t like it.”
“You still have to eat it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Just take a few bites.”
“I did.”
“You did not.”
Caitlin points to some mashed potatoes that have clearly just been moved around her plate to a different spot.
I try another tactic. “Eat some of the chicken.”
“I don’t like chicken.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. Duh!” She rolls her eyes at me, like I haven’t seen her eat chicken a million times before. I glance over at her nine-year-old brother, who has the last of his chicken stuffed in his mouth, cheeks bulging, watching Nickelodeon on TV. I know he will be no help.
“You won’t get candy for dessert if you don’t eat your dinner.”
“I don’t want candy.”
She stares me right in the eyes. I stare back. We sit there like that for maybe hours.
“Can I have candy?” James, the nine-year-old brother, asks.
“Yes,” I say, my eyes not leaving Caitlin.
We stare more and more, longer and longer. I know I am about to cave. I am not made out for this.
“Fine. Eat one more bite and then you can be done.”
Caitlin smiles, a smile of triumph, and scoops one tiny piece of chicken into her mouth, chews it with her mouth open, then bounces out of her chair. I turn to look at James, only to find him with a pile of ten candy bars in front of him.
I sigh deeply.
Me: 0. Kids: 1
--
We try again the next day. My husband and I are watching the kids for the next four days while my sister and her husband take a much-needed vacation. I know there is no way I can have this dinner fight for four more days. I will not survive.
But tonight is pizza, and all kids like pizza, right?
“What is this?” Caitlin pokes the pepperoni on her pizza like it might explode if she gets too close.
“Pepperoni. What do you think it is?”
“It’s gross.”
“Don’t eat it.”
“Okay, I’m done.” She starts to get up.
“Caitin!” She stops, halfway out of her chair, and stares at me. “Don’t eat the pepperoni. You have to eat the pizza.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I don’t care. It’s what your mom left for you.”
“I don’t want it.”
“If you don’t eat it, I’ll tell your mommy when she calls tonight.” I wince as I hear myself say it, but I am not above bribery in this moment.
“I don’t care.”
“No other snacks if you don’t eat it. No fruit snacks or candy.”
“I don’t care.”
“Take five bites and then you can be done.”
“I can watch TV?”
“Sure, whatever.”
She looks me over carefully, to make sure I’m not messing with her. My lack of fight and exhaustion must show on my face. She takes five bites, almost normal sized, then gets up from her chair.
“Put your plate in the sink!” I call, as if that will make up for me losing the dinner battle again.
She does. I feel slightly relieved that she at least listens to something. Then I pick up another piece of pizza for myself.
--
There is dread swirling in the pit of my stomach. I think my hands might be shaking. I pull the baking tin of lasagna out of the oven and sniff it. It smells amazing, but it does nothing to calm my nerves.
I dish up four servings of lasagna - two normal adult-sized portions, one normal kid-sized portion and one with just a spoonful.
I place them on the table, put the rest of the lasagna in the center and call everyone for dinner. They come unwillingly, not super happy to leave the TV, but once I find the remote and click it off, their focus returns.
Caitlin looks down at her portion and then looks up at me. There is a frown across her face.
“Where’s mine?”
“I didn’t think you were hungry.”
“I’m hungry.”
I shrug. “You haven’t been the past two days.”
She looks at her brother’s plate and her eyes narrow. “Why does James get so much?”
“James eats his dinner.”
“I eat my dinner.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If I eat this, can I have more?”
I purse my lips, like I need to think about it. “I don’t know. I don’t want to waste food. I can eat it for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’ll eat it.”
“Well, maybe eat that and then we can see. I’m not sure you’ll even want more.”
Caitlin glares at me before picking up her fork. Thirty seconds later and her plate is empty.
“Can I have more?”
I shrug. “I guess. But just a little.”
“But I’m HUNGRY.”
“I don’t think you’ll eat it all if you take a lot.”
Caitlin purposely serves herself two giant spoonfuls. Some of it misses and falls on the table. I look at her disapprovingly, then go back to my own lasagna.
Five minutes later her plate is clear.
“Can I have candy?” she asks.
I try to hide my smile. “Yes,” I say.
She comes back to the table with three pieces of candy. I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks she has won.
I don’t say anything. It’s good to let her believe what she wants.
Non-fiction.
This was written for Week 17 of therealljidol. I hope you enjoyed it! If you would like to read more entries, you can head over here. Voting should come Thursday night!