While driving home from Bible study this afternoon, Anna told me she wanted to eat. I replied, "Okay, honey, we're on our way home. Mom will make you some lunch."
"No. Lunch at restaurant," Anna said in her whiniest voice.
At first, I couldn't understand her completely, probably because "restaurant" was the last possible thing I thought she would say. As much as I tried to convince her of the fabulous lunch awaiting her at home, she persisted with "restaurant."
I called Bryan on the way home because I was half horrified and half cracking up at this restaurant declaration. What in the world? Of course, she heard me talking to Bryan about this and became even more adamant that she wanted to go to a restaurant for lunch.
And then we pulled into the driveway at home. What's that saying? All ^@#* breaking loose? Mhmm.
The more I tried to undo her car seat straps, the more she buckled them back--full out fit. She was crying incredibly hard, screaming "no" and "restaurant." I was making the situation worse because I was nearly doubled over in hysterics . . . laughing so hard. Clearly, she did not find the situation funny.
I get her out of the car . . . dragging her up the porch stairs to the door. As I unlock the front door, she makes a bee line for the car. Dragged again. Inside, I call Bryan so he can hear this. She was brokenhearted and mad, crying big tears. I told her to tell Dad what was a matter. All she would say is "Mama" while she clutched the phone.
Here's how I resolved the situation:
The mailman divinely showed up to drop off the mail. So we went outside to get the mail and the newspaper. She recovered. We played outside for nearly 30 minutes until I dared to bring up lunch again. Strategically, I also mentioned she could watch the "Beats" (Fresh Beat Band, her first true love) while she ate lunch. And maybe, just maybe, I provided her with some of her favorites: avocado, cheese, and pretzels. Whew.
Let's just hope she takes it okay when she finds out we're having crock pot chicken at home for dinner.
No comments:
Post a Comment