So today I fed my son lunch. He is the cutest thing. But he ate his chips (of course) first and his blueberries next. His strawberries and hot dog remained on his plate. And then he did what any normal human would do—he asked for more chips (I mean, come on, we all love salty potato chips).
I said, “No.”
And then he started to cry.
Typical response of a toddler who has been told no. So I was not worried. Not only was it typical, it showed me that it was time for the little man to head to bed. Nap time. Obviously he had good food in front of him: strawberries and hot dog (okay, the hot dog is questionable), and he didn’t eat. Therefore, my mommy sense picked up that he was tired.
So I did what I would do any other day…I said, “Okay, Maxie…Nap time!” He didn’t object. I prepared his milk (coconut milk—the boy has a dairy allergy) and got him down to change his diaper before his nap.
That’s when the man of the house came along…”You want more chips, Max? Okay. Eat a couple hot dog bites and strawberries for daddy and I’ll give you more chips.” Boy walks dad to the pantry and points to the chips.
Oh no! Sinking ship—and fast!!! Where are your water pails??? Because it became a tsunami of tears.
“Chips, Dadda! Chips!”
“Eat 2 bites of hot dog for Dadda. You are two. One. Two. Eat two bites.”
“Chiiiiiiipppppppps, Dadda!”
Crocodile tears are now cascading down his cheeks.
“Maxie, do you want chips? You have to eat your strawberries and two bites of hot dog for Dadda.”
“CHIPS!” Waterworks galore.
At this point, my husband looks at me, “Should I give him chips?”
“Yes. Give him chips.” The toddler has won.
One. Two. Chips for the sobbing toddler. Mommy packed up the hot dog and ate the strawberries herself.
“Moh (for more) chips, Dadda!” As I sweep him out of the bar stool and proceed to change his diaper.
Yes, you know that your husband has been away when you try and stick to the routine you have been doing on your own for the past month and in an instant there is another factor—the Daddy factor. And all of what you have been doing gets flipped upside down and inside out. And daddy gets suckered in.
But, you know, in the end, I would rather my son take my husband by the hand and lead him to the pantry and ask for more chips, while leaving a perfectly good uneaten lunch on his plate.
Why? You may wonder.
Because that means daddy is home to ask. And there is nothing more grand than that.
Except, perhaps, chips…