eating my words, or: why I just let Ben have cookies at (for?) dinner.

How easy was it before I had a child to run off at the mouth about what I would and wouldn't do?

My son throws his food. He throws things in stores. He throws his sippy cup and whatever is inside inevitably splashes on me, just a little.

He used to be a good eater. Now, he's not. Now, he says no to a LOT and I 'want to make sure he gets enough to eat' (insert whiny mother voice here).

As a general rule, he always wants to be doing something other than what I'd like for him to do, and tonight was no different. His I'm-bored-I-want-down wailing was so loud tonight that when I was making dinner, and towards the end he'd already eaten a little bit and then thrown the rest of what I'd offered him on the floor. So in order to keep him occupied for 5 minutes while I finished up and put everything in the oven, I gave him cookies. Six. Arrowroots, which I just heard don't have much sugar (thanks, Corrine!).

I'm sure tomorrow I'll let him run around a store and throw things off the shelves, or something else that I used to roll my eyes and huff and puff at.

I'm also sure my parents are smiling right now. I hear that being a grandparent is the best revenge.