Battle of Wills

Of all the bull-headed, stubborn creatures I've ever come across, Abby has to be one of the worst I've ever seen. That girl can take my patience and push it to it's furthest limits...and then some. I know, from what I've been told at least, that she probably gets it from me. I can be a bit hot-headed and stubborn. I admit it. But it must get worst as each generation goes on. That's my best guess.

Right now the greatest battle of wills has begun. Dinner. That's my greatest struggle with miss Abigail. She eats breakfast. She eats lunch. She eats lots of things. But dinner? Not a chance. Up until now, I've done the "catering" act. I did it with Alex and I'll do it with Evie later down the road. That being said, I stopped catering to Alex's food finickiness around the age of four and a half and now that kid can out eat me any day of the week. He's got a hollow leg. So, by catering, I mean that when they don't eat what I make for everyone, I give them healthy alternatives like fruit, turkey or carrot sticks. Abby will be turning five in April and I am so done with making separate food for her. This is how it goes every dinner: I put food in front of her. She pushes it away and eats nothing and tells me she's not hungry. She then gets down from the table and within 20 minutes she asks for food because she's (and I quote) "Starving!" She eats an apple and then talks about how hungry she is all night long. Ugh.

This week we began the game. I explained to her that she is old enough now to eat what I make or don't eat at all. She sits there with her arms folded and stares off into space with the ho-hum look of boredom. One night, she ate a tiny biscuit. The next night, it was a single fish stick. (What the heck?!? She loves fishsticks!) The next night? One handful of plain spaghetti noodles and a green bean. Tonight I told her she wouldn't get down from the table until she ate the designated piles of food that I made her. She sat there for one hour. One hour! Holy cow! That girl about made steam come out of my ears. But guess what? I won. Yup. Nothing is so satisfying as winning a fight like this against your four year old child. How sad is that? But she finally caved and ate it. She asked for dessert and I laughed. Not a chance baby girl. Not a chance. Let the long days of the battle of wills begin. Bring. It. On.