One Enchanted Evening . . . and Chocolate

I know I have to take the credit (blame?), but lately when my tiniest one has been waking up, she immediately asks for chocolate cake, or Rice Krispie treats, or Hershey Kisses, or some other sweet. Yesterday morning it was the cake and RK treats. And I should clarify - she didn't "ask," she demanded . . . with stomping of the little feet . . . and arms folded across the chest . . . and a manipulated scowl . . . and an ornery voice. I stood my ground. I really did! I even explained how too much sugar can make our tummies hurt, and how we have to have healthy stuff in our tummies first. She didn't care about any of that. The demanding (and crying) continued.

I patiently explained that after lunch she could have a treat. Mind you, it was only breakfast time, but she then requested lunch immediately! When that didn't work, she asked for dinner! She's a smart one, my little angel.

It still didn't work - and I calmly told her that when she chose to have breakfast she could come and tell me and I would fix it for her. She pouted in private for 20 minutes or so and then came and asked for Cheerios. However, the demanding for sweets did not relent!

I finally tore a square of paper and printed "11" on it with a magic marker. Then I taped it over the minutes on my oven clock, right next to the LED "9." I told her that when that first number matched the one I had written she could have chocolate cake OR a Rice Krispie treat - her choice.

To make the LONG story short - the stomping and crying and demanding continued. It didn't let up one bit, even though I plopped her in front of the TV, hoping for a little relief from the drama. At one point she was pleading and sobbing "please let me have sweets at another number! I want sugar at another number!" Oh my, I was wearing down!

When the clock struck "10" she changed her tactic. She had obviously gotten the lesson that she couldn't have CAKE or RICE KRISPIE TREATS before the magic number, but could she "please (in a desperate voice) have a Hershey Kiss?" And, since she's "almost five" (her birthday is in September) could she "please have five Kisses?!" I was wearing down even more. I know an hour or so doesn't seem so long, but the whining of a child is akin to labor and the minutes tick by slowly! I told her we would call her daddy and ask him (I KNEW he would say yes - and it would free me from having to stand my ground, sort of. I still wouldn't let her have the cake or RK!) I dialed her will-do-anything-for-his-little-princess daddy and he picked up immediately. And just as immediately he said "Can I call you right back?" That means he was in a meeting. Yikes. I hung up and told her she could have one Kiss. I'm weak.

The crying for FIVE Kisses and cake and and a treat went on and on and on . . . Until she had lunch and then a Rice Krispie Treat.

Sometime later, as she lounged on my bed in front of the television, she had forgotten her ornery mood and all the drama. But then she said "remember mom, you said I could have chocolate cake after lunch!" Aaarrgghhh! "But sweetheart, I said you can have that OR the treat, and you chose the treat!" Not too many tears this time.

Fast forward: Early evening and the kids are home from school. Richard has returned from work and, instead of wanting to order for delivery our traditional Monday dinner, wants to go to the pizza place to eat. No problem. Just have to finish the piano practicing with Coop while Richard runs to take care of an issue at a neighbor's. We'll leave when he returns.

I'm counting for Coop, "2, 2, 2 hold," over and over again and the princess begins her drama again. This time she's "starving!!! when are we going to eat??? My tummy hurts because I'm starving!!" Soon, honey, soon. "My tummy hurts! Maybe I had too much sugar today."

What??? She learned her lesson??? I am a good mother??? At the age of four she is beginning to understand the complicated issues of nutrition and body fuel and what we need versus what we want? Halleluja!

We leave for the pizza joint and she is ecstatic (as she is "STARVING!!") and we all (8 + teenage son's girlfriend = 9) squeeze into a booth and dig into the salads and pizza. Just as the second pizza was being brought out, Ivy threw up. She vomited . . .and vomited . . . and vomited! McKenna was quick and shoved a salad bowl under her and contained much of the mess. Luckily the place was mostly empty, except for the teens who were working there. When Ivy finished I lifted and cuddled her and I knew I could read the thoughts of the employees behind their wide eyes. "Do I have to clean that up?" My guilty thought: "I'm so glad I don't have to clean that up off of my carpet or furniture." We had them box up the last pizza and we headed for home and a bath.

So that explains the long, whiny morning. And that explains why she's still asleep this morning.

(p.s. She did wake up briefly a few hours ago with tummy pain, and, while awake, said "McKenna was glad she was sitting by me so maybe she'll get my germs and get to stay home from school." Personally, I'd rather sit through Physics and Geometry than puke.)