It was the end to a very long day and we were doing our usual dinner routine. The one we do every night, prepare a meal and pray that one or both of the boys will eat it. Tonight’s specialty was sloppy joes and as routines go there was a revolt rising. In the past hubs and I have been able to barter and trade between the boys enough to get a sufficient amount of food eaten to be called supper…but this time the baby would have no trading.
No, the baby wanted to eat fries and only fries. He wanted his fries, his brothers fries, and the fries still left on the baking sheet. The sloppy joe just wasn’t going to do it for him. What kid doesn’t like sloppy joes you might ask? An almost 2 year old that is getting all of his molars at the same time.
So after realizing that this was a battle that could not be won I did the unthinkable and gave in…
let him eat fries
I was done! I was tired, hungry, and ready for bed. As the boys ate I sat down at the table with them and felt defeated. I laid my head down on the table and closed my eyes for just a second to catch my breath when I felt this little hand on my face. This slick, slimy little hand covered in sloppy joe gently touching my cheek. It was my 3 year old caressing my face the way I do to him all the time. I opened my eyes and he said, “Momma, I feel you better”.
Well, that’s the best I’ve ever felt with food smeared on my face. In fact, I’ll take that treatment any day of the week. Yes, I felt better…much better.