Dinner with My Four-Year-Old

Every evening, getting my four-year-old to settle down and eat actual food that does not consist of confetti waffles, peanut butter in a flour tortilla, pop tarts, or "monkey drinks" (yogurt smoothies) is a battle of epic proportions.

Here's how it usually goes:

1. She approaches the dinner table warily, like a cat stalking some kind of unappetizing prey. When she gets close enough to see what is actually on her plate, she asks, "WHAT is THAT?"
2. Before she deals with the food again, she looks reprovingly at the rest of us sitting around the table, and says, in her best Church Lady voice, "Grace!" She then proceeds to give us a reggae-style version of thanksgiving prayer ("Thank you for this food; thank you for this da-aa-ay. A-a-a-aaaaamen") complete with hand gestures that look like a cross between a flopping fish and a third-base coach desperately trying to give signals to a batter.
3. After grace, she again looks at her food, pokes it with her finger (if she deigns to touch it), and declares, "That. Is. Disgusting." This is typically followed by the statement "I am NOT eating any salad."
4. Throughout the rest of dinner, she treats her chair like it is about 350 degrees in temperature, bouncing up and down, doing leg stretches inappropriate to anything but a gymnastics class.
5. After I tell her that she has to try what's on her plate (at least two bites), she proceeds to bring the food toward her mouth while wearing an expression like Stephen King's screaming Carrie.

Then, finally ..... she says .... "This is actually good." And goes on to eat most of it.

Exhausting.

So, last night at dinner, I told my husband, "What would it be like if we acted like four-year-olds at dinner?" I then proceeded to play out the scenario complete with inappropriate leg stretches and laying down in my chair. Picture it.

I mean, what else do you do during a nightly situation that borders on the ridiculous except roll with the punches? Until Monday all:). A/J