This post originally appeared on my other blog in March, 2016
It’s been a while since we posted anything here at the Traumatic Parenting Workshop—every time we sit down to write something, we wind up taking a nap—but this morning I wanted to share a recent tale of our breakfast battles.
Breakfast of course being one of the five most important meals of the day.
Every morning, my kids seem shocked—perhaps even stunned—when they’re called to breakfast. Generally the (oft-repeated) request is followed by an insistence that whatever being served is “icky” and demands to know what their other options are. Picking battles requires a strategic consideration: I could dig in and insist that they’re going to eat the same thing they haven’t had a problem with over the previous 365 days, or I can list the same alternatives they’ve refused over the same previous span. Eventually Cheerios and milk and Pillsbury crescent rolls win out. They always do.
Or generally always do.
On Monday, Special Snowflake #2 announced her intention to make her own selection, only to emerge from the pantry carrying rainbow sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles, and cooking spray. Before she was halfway across the kitchen I informed her she wasn’t having cooking spray for breakfast.
And for the rest of the morning—right up until I dropped her off at school—she alternated between sulking and asserting her right to a cooking spray breakfast. It was a glorious battle, and an effective demonstration of the steel will she shares with her sister.
Not that “shares” is the most accurate word to use referring to my girls, since that implies actual sharing… I’m kidding. They’re actually great sharers, except when they’re not.
And maybe in the end, I’d merely picked the wrong battle… I’ll admit I couldn’t decide if the cooking spray went on the sprinkles, or the sprinkles went on the cooking spray.
May we all never know.