Out of Touch

 "I not want dinner," Carter told me tonight.  There were about six plain spaghetti noodles on her plate, a tablespoon of meat and mushrooms on the side and three tiny cubed beets.  

She drank her milk.  

"I not want dinner, I full," she said again.

To which I replied, "You're full?  Then you probably don't have room for any dessert, like ice cream."

"I have room here.  And here." She told me as she lifted each arm and pointed just below her armpits.  

She is pretty convincing, but this isn't my first rodeo, so I told her she'd have to do better than that.  She ate a noodle.  Gagged on a beet.  Spit out a piece of meat her brother tried to convince her to eat.  She is stubborn.  So am I.  She didn't get the ice cream.  

I think her brother's were more beat up about it than she was.  Fischer knows what it's like to sit and watch everyone else eat dessert.  He was desperate to get her to eat.    

The boys think we are horrible humans.  Maybe we are.  Maybe they will all grow up with food issues...or maybe they will grow up willing to at least try things.  Time will tell.  In the meantime, I'm not willing to give up the food fight.  Yet.  

"Some people just never understand kids!" Sawyer told us again last night.  He knows we are totally old fashioned and out of touch, and it is making him crazy.  He really drew the short straw on the parent train.  Other grown-ups "get it."  Kids need to be loud, gross, and annoying.  They should all have iPads or tablets.  There shouldn't be consequences.  And he should definitely get to drink more soda and watch more shows.

It's a rough life around here.  

He would also like eight more siblings so he wouldn't have to be so bored all the time.  I would like eight more wives so I could be bored a little more often.  We all have dreams.