Well, Abby turned up her nose and said, "No" to a plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and corn tonight. We didn't argue. It went in the fridge, and she skipped off to a puzzle.
She played and read books for two full hours until she saw me eating an apple. She scurried over and wanted it. I said no apple until she ate her dinner. She tried a couple more times, pouted, and disappeared. Minutes later she had Eric by the hand, leading him down the hallway toward the kitchen and reminding him of their mission: "App-uh. App-uh."
I intervened and said apples aren't for little girls who missed supper. Eric played the part of the uniformed accomplice that he was, and Abby wailed. She went off by herself for awhile to plot. When I opened the fridge to take out her cold dinner, she dropped to her knees by the crisper tray and nabbed an apple. She handed it up deviously but trustingly to be cut (as is the way you eat apples at 21 months) and I, equally devious, put it out of reach with a thump.
She wailed. She railed. She kicked. She begged. I went in the other room.
Then I heard some commotion in the kitchen so I rolled my eyes at dear Er and went out to investigate what kind of a theft might be in progress. She had climbed up in her high chair, strapped herself in, and was situating the tray, saying, "Eat."
I warmed up the dinner, placed it before her, gave her the fork she requested, and then watched in awe as she ate her dinner and even commented on the quality of the corn: "Goot."
When she was finished, I gave her a shining quarter of her red trophy and told her to go and show Dad. She was so proud as she marched into the bedroom to show off.
I had to wipe a small tear away. It's just so precious. HARD, mind you, but precious.
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