Toddlers are tiny tyrants. They can’t help it, I know. Thus, when E decided he wanted nothing to do with his dinner (that he ate ALL of the previous night), I assigned no judgment to my cooking abilities and chucked it in the trash.
I marvel that a 21-month old has the ability to convince me to meal plan, eat leftovers, cook quinoa (FTW)…and simultaneously leave me starving and unable to conceptualize anything for myself.
Yet, when he goes to sleep this night, at 7:05, I pulled the oil from the pantry, waited for it to heat over the pot on the stove, then covered the bottom with a single layer of popcorn. When the kernels exploded against the top, I turned the burner down until a few random pops signaled completion.
I marvel, too, that while I attempt to be so thoughtful with E’s dinner, mine is this: popcorn, on the stove, a dash of salt, eaten OUT OF THE PAN, while I sit on the couch and watch reality television and read Southern Living.
Oy. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have some veggies to accompany this meal, though I read the label: fiber. I win.