For the most part, I’ve got bright, cheerful kids so I can’t complain too much- at least, no more than any other parent. But, as every other parent will attest, they can drive you fucking nuts.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Today, with Isabel, I had the asparagus argument. It’s not really a staple part of our diet but I picked up some in the supermarket the other day because it looked like an especially good price and I, personally, love the stuff. With butter and salt, or maybe a light vinegar dressing, or just plain, it’s a taste treat. Unique, distinctive.
It sat in the fridge for a couple of days but today it was my turn to make lunch because the school where I teach on Thursdays is already out for Easter vacation (not my favorite holiday, especially the Czech version of it, but I’ll save that column for Easter), so I picked up Isabel from pre-school early and the plan was to make a quick lunch and then go to Sam’s football game (which they won by rather a large margin but it was rainy and miserable, so, mixed reviews on that).
It wasn’t the main course and I tried to introduce it in a positive way (“you guys are going to love this!”) but that didn’t fool anybody. Sam had had it before and announced right away that he hates it. Isabel decided that she hated it, too, although she’d never tried it before. She had 3 reasons, I think. First, she is very, very influenced by her big brother’s opinion. Secondly, she is also influenced by my opinions, in an inverse manner. That is, if Daddy likes it, it must be disgusting. Third, it’s a vegetable, and she’s a kid, so there’s the principle of the thing, after all.
So, she refused to eat it. I told her she had to, but I couldn’t very well pry her mouth open and force it down and we were on a schedule, so I went with the old “O.K., you’re going to have it for supper” routine, which my parents used on me.
Supper was an ordeal, with Isabel weeping through most of it and me not getting a great deal of support from my wife who apparently had a more lenient upbringing than me, vis a vis vegetables.
I told her it would be on her plate for breakfast, which was an idle threat because we don’t always even have breakfast, then I turned off the TV and got the whole family mad at me, so I turned to the one thing that always works.
I threatened to spank her butt. Unimaginative. Old fashioned. Primitive. But it worked.
She swallowed the little bit which we’d established as the bare minimum and reached for her juice as if she’d just been poisoned, but she ate it.
And, miracle of miracles, she didn’t hate it.
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