Daniel is not afraid of too many things. He'll brave the diving board even though he cannot swim. He'll dig in the dirt to find just the right kind-of bug. He can ram his head into the wall and walk, I mean run, away saying "I okay." But for goodness sake, do not get the boy near any vegetables unless you are prepared for war!
Let me set the stage for you:
It is Saturday evening and time for supper. The kids should be pretty hungry by now since they have not had anything to eat since lunch. So I'm thinking that sounds like the perfect opportunity to put something on his plate that he hasn't tried, at least not in a long time. Now, I've been planning for this opportunity for awhile. I began a couple of weeks ago by cutting potatoes into little pieces, cooking them in the slightest bit of oil, and calling them "french fried potatoes". Notice the emphasis on the word potato. My thought was that after making the change from oil to water, and dropping the words "french fried," he might actually maybe possibly not object. I was wrong. Not only does he refuse to eat the potato, ONE potato, he decides nothing on his plate is worthy of eating.
Now, Sunday morning... time for breakfast. The plate that Daniel refused the night before is taken out of the fridge, warmed up, and placed in front of him. He replies, "I'm not hungry." We get dressed and go to church. Lucky for him, they have snacks at church! Also lucky for him, we have plans to visit family for the remainder of the day. While at Donnie & Donna's house, Daniel asks the question: "Did you bring my plate?" I answered, "No, we left it at home." Daniel's face lights up. He knows he gets to eat pizza! We all have a repreive .
Okay, now it is Monday morning, I open the fridge and see the dreaded plate. I carry on a debate with myself. I could throw the food away, and have a normal day, OR I can put my armor back on and go into battle... again. Really wanting to drop the food into the trash, I decide to put on my armor. Here we go. ALL DAY LONG, I try to talk him into eating the potato, explaining to him all the wonderful foods he can have if he would only take one bite. "I'm not hungry" was his battle cry. We get to supper time. I am determined not to carry this on to the next day. Also, the idea of sending my baby to bed with nothing to eat ALL DAY just tears me up inside. So, Abby finishes her supper, I feed Jonathan and go to put him in his bed. My instructions to Daniel are clear: eat this one potato before leaving the table. When I come back downstairs to the table, this is what I find:
My sweet little boy had fallen asleep at the table. Oh, what a mean mother am I! What do I do? I pick him up and gently tell him he needs to eat one teeny, tiny bite. We struggle through it together... he eats the potato!!! Daniel won! He beat that mean, nasty, terrible potato! As we are celebrating he looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes and says, "Mommy, I wuv you." Now that is enough to bring tears to your eyes.