So how did dinner go last night?
For some reason, the grandlads only had a half-day at school yesterday. We picked them up, took them home, and while they watched
The Great Race, I handled cooking duties: roast leg of pork, with roasted root veggies, mashed potatoes, and Stouffer's Spinach Souffle. After the movie, der B worked with them on their homework.
Mind, during all of this there was very little snacking going on. William thought that some of what I was cooking sounded interesting, but when Alex learned of the menu
he decided that he didn't like any of it and wasn't going to eat any of it. And he was already digging in his heels, long before dinner was ready.
About an hour before dinner, Alex was insisting that he was hungry, and that he had the right to raid the kitchen and snack on whatever he wanted. I told him "No," firmly, and was met with an angry stuck-out chin and furrowed brow.
Dinner was finally called, and the family sat at the table. First we all had a salad, simple greens and tomatoes (served separately), with a choice of dressings. William tried to pour half the bottle of Thousand Island on his salad, to his mother's dismay. Alex refused to eat any salad ("I
Hate Salad!" (those who know me should know how I feel about that word)) and tried to charge into the kitchen again to grab a snack-bag of chips, but was firmly told to return to the table.
The main course of dinner was served. Alex, of course, refused to eat any of the dinner that was put on his plate. He had no interest in eating the pork, and the mashed potatoes were made from real potatoes instead of Potato Buds, and he decided they were yucky and that he wasn't going to eat any of them. But I had made a mistake: I had laid a few strips of bacon over the roast, to help moisten the meat while cooking. And der Brucer compounded the mistake, by deciding that this could substitute for the meat for Alex, after some additional cooking in the nuker. The grandlad practically gloated about not having to eat the same meat as everyone else. Then Mommy knuckled under and gave Alex a large slice of cheese.
So, as far as Alex was concerned, he had won the dinner battle. He hadn't eaten anything the rest of the family had for dinner. And that is how he usually gets fed. He either gets what he wants cooked for him, or he pulls his power plays and eventually gets his way. This is a kid who also has a major problem with constipation, who hurts after having a stool and also has stomach cramps because he can't "poop", but whose parents cannot take control of his diet. And one of the major contributors to constipation in young children? Cheese, of course.
I try to keep a calm exterior, but inwardly I'm seething. The thought of an eight-year-old child controlling his parents to this extent that it endangers his health, yet they aren't strong enough to stop what is happening, is infuriating to me.
At least the rest of the family enjoyed the meal.
