Mealtime

Often times I feel like a short order cook or a server in my home. I prepare (almost always) 3 different meals. One for myself (and Luke if he's home), one for Will, and one for Dane. I technically could prepare the same meal for Will and Dane, since Dane eats as much as or more than Will, but Will is the pickiest eater EVER and I'm determined to make Dane a better eater. Therefore, I try to give him a lot more variety than what Will eats. (which consists of chicken nuggets, peanut butter, pizza and grilled cheese. Period.) Last weekend I decided to make this healthy version chicken pot pie. I was so excited, and had such high hopes that we could ALL finally eat one meal together. It had chicken (check), broccoli and peas (which I was completely fine with Will picking out), cream of chicken soup (yum!) and breading. What's not to like? We sit down and Dane begins gagging on it. I take it away and blend it up thinking he might not like the texture. Nope, still gags. Will flat out refuses to try even one little, tiny bite. I was informed that this chicken was unacceptable, that he wanted "HIS" chicken (Mc'Donalds or the frozen kind, aka: breaded) I get a bite so small you could barely see it on the fork and tell him he must try one bite. (the principle, of course) You would have thought we had just told him he was being sent to a torture chamber. After at least an hour of a sobbing, yelling, full on kicking tantrum, he tried a bite and (gasp!) said he liked it. But, by that time long gone were my hopes of having a nice dinner all together. During a normal meal, when Luke is gone, Dane exhibits his underdeveloped patience well, and wails until I give him his first course. As soon as I can scurry back into the kitchen to continue making his second course and Will's, he's crying for more. I can hardly put it on his tray as fast as he eats it. You would think I starved the poor child. By the time I've made the 14 trips from the table to the kitchen, re-filling Dane's tray and getting everything ready, they're finishing up just in time for me to sit down and eat my meal. In all fairness, as long as I stick with the few chosen foods with Will and don't throw him any food-curve balls, he eats really well. So, back to feeling like a short order cook... My feelings were confirmed today when I was "serving" the boys and I realized Will was hollering "Ma'am. Ma'am! MA'AM!" Me: Yes, Will? "Please scoot me up."