Life was much easier when we used spoon feed our daughter. There was no breakfast showdown then. We would be able to get her to try most foods and sometimes she might even swallow what was on the spoon rather than spit or out, dribbling down her chin. Covered head to toe in a bib and towels, I could limit the mess and everyone would be fed, clean and happy. Then she started to get all independent and wanted to hold the spoon and feed herself. “No problem!” we said and let her get on with it, sometimes missing her face and smooshing food across her face, but if we took our eyes off of her for one second, she’d start flinging Weetbix across the kitchen. Surveillance was needed.
Time moved on and she started to talk a bit, demanding “more milk” at every possible moment. We’d try and placate her with a drop here or there but she knew we were just paying her lip service. “A drop of milk isn’t “more milk” is it?” we could feel her saying to us through her babbles. Soon enough if you didn’t pour enough milk, a tantrum began to brew. Poured too much then you risked the bowl being flung across the room. This is known as Weetabix-gedden. The stuff gets EVERYWHERE and sticks to all surfaces and must be wiped down straight away or else it dries like BLOODY CEMENT. You can check out the most recent bits that i keep meaning to chisel off the skirting board just here…DON’T JUDGE…
So breakfast time everyday has now become a potential showdown in which we move slowly to avoid startling the Toddler or else we trigger a gigantic tantrum which last just a few seconds but has maximum impact.
This week I’ve sat down to join her at the table to eat my toast and then BAM – cereal smashed against the patio windows because she’s jealous I have toast even though she chose cereal. I was able to stick my arm out and catch the bowl like a freaking NINJA to stop further carnage, but the damage was done and the stuff had splashed all over my clean work clothes. In this instance I kept my cool but in the past I have instinctively shouted out “NOOOOOO!” very loudly which usually makes her cry and I didn’t want that to happen. It’s just being converged in full fat milk and cornflakes isn’t my idea of a great work look and I’m just expressing my dismay. I’ve learned to to mute my reaction when a breakfast showdown happens. It means after I catch the bowl, I can put it straight back on the table, retrieve the spoon from the being embedded in the wall like some sort of ninja throwing star and act like nothing has happened. She jumps out of her mood in a hindsight and breakfast can carry on as pleasantly as it was a minute previously.
Until the next morning’s breakfast showdown.