Will was in one of those moods yesterday. Let me be more specific, he was in one of those "If you dare to utter the word 'no' to me, the Earth will stop turning and I will melt into a puddle of my own tears" moods. In general, he's a lovely child. He's laid back, easy going and happy about 99% of the time. When that dreaded 1% kicks in though, stand back and grab your ear plugs. I actually have to hold myself back from laughing at him when he is in mid-tantrum. Not because I'm a horrible, evil mommy, but because I can't believe the things that bring him to this point.
Yesterday, it was all about the food. When we left the sitter's house, he spotted a pack of crackers in his bag and immediately started asking for them. I explained to him that he couldn't have the crackers now because we were going home to eat dinner. He had a mini freak out until Rob managed to distract him with talk of what else we would be eating. Crisis averted. When we got home, Rob immediately started cooking tacos, but Will had different dinner plans in mind and decided that he wanted cereal instead. Since we are trying to get him to eat what we eat for dinner and not turn ourselves into short order cooks to cater to his every desire, I told him no. Down to the floor he went, kicking and crying and wailing, "CERRRRREALLLL! CERRRRRREALL!!" I ignored him (these are the rules) and let him get over his fit. It took him about 3 minutes. It was rough, but we made it through. Now, it was time to eat tacos. We mixed up taco meat, tomatoes, sour cream, lettuce and cheese in a bowl for him, because we're no where near brave enough yet to give him an actual taco with a shell. Talk about a mess. He looks at his bowl filled with taco salad and asked for more cheese. I sprinkled a little more on top. He asked for more cheese. I sprinkled a little more. "MOOOOORE CHEESE!" he says and I tell him, "One more scoop of cheese." By this time, cheese is practically falling out of the sides of the bowl, so it wasn't as though I was being stingy or anything. Well, you know what, that wasn't enough cheese for my boy. Another fit ensued and he laid in the floor, screaming, crying, kicking, and throwing any object within his reach while Rob and I ate our tacos and pretended like everything was peachy. This fit went on for about 10 minutes. Rob tried to go in once and bring him out to eat with us. He wanted nothing to do with it. His tantrum was not over and no one was going to cheat him out of it. I went to him when the crying slowed and I could tell that he was starting to wear down. I asked him if he wanted to come eat his salad and he jumped right up on his feet, wiped the tears from his little red face and said, "Uh huh." And it was all over. Just like that, he was fine. He ate his salad like a champ. I'm sure he was famished from all that energy he wasted thrashing around on the floor.
Just another day with a 2 year old. What can I say, my boy is serious about his food. And as much as I want to laugh when he gets like this, I think back to my pregnancy, I recall my meltdowns over mashed potatoes, and I decide I should probably just keep my big mouth shut.
Have a great weekend!