Last night's dinner was Sloppy Joe's. I served it open-face atop garlic-dusted, toasted kaiser rolls, with a side of steamed carrots. A pretty tasty meal, my husband and I thought.
But Turbo was a little suspicious and wouldn't touch it. I decided to risk a new parenting maneuver (new for me, at least) in not letting him leave the table until he took one bite. I knew he wouldn't eat the carrots, so we put two forkfuls in front of him - one with sloppy joe + carrots, and one with just sloppy joe fixins. He picked the one we expected, and we thought we solved the problem.
A lot (and I mean, a LOT) of back and forth and delay tactics later, Turbo finally realized I was serious and picked up the fork.
He stared at the sloppy joe mixture and seemed to be contemplating something profound. We leaned in to hear the oracle speak. Turbo pointed at the food on the fork, and at that moment I heard the words that no cook wants to hear:
"No! This is poop!"
He said what?!? My husband and I burst into uncontrollable laughter. There is no way to keep a straight face for something that funny and unexpected.
Lesson learned: Maybe spend a little less time talking about the potty.
No comments:
Post a Comment