Totally My Fault

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Can we order dessert?”

Me: “Uh, no. This meal is not nutritious enough already. I got wings, you got chicken fingers, he ordered a cheeseburger, and we’re all eating fries.”

LMT: “Pretty please?”

Me: “No, you ordered lemonade. That’s basically a dessert.  Also, we have ice cream at home. I mean, look — none of us have eaten anything even resembling a fruit or veggie tonight.”

(long pause)

Danger Monkey, age 10: “What if we order some fruits and veggies? Then can we get dessert?”

Me: “This is not that kind of place. They don’t even sell fruits and veggies.”

LMT: “Well, it is called Buffalo Wild Wings, not Veggie Palace. You should have known better when you brought us here.”

Me: …

B-W-Please

Me: “It’s just you and me for dinner. Let’s go to BW3s.”

LMT: “No way. I hate BW3s. No way. No way. I hate bw3s. What is BW3s?”

Me: “They have chicken fingers and cheese fries and corn dogs. You’ll love it.”

LMT: “No way. I hate BW3s.”

Me: “They give you little tablets and you can play games the whole time.”

LMT: “I love BW3s!”

Peppered With Questions

Me: “Everyone needs to eat a few of these sweet red pepper slices.”

Little Miss Thing, age 6: “No way! I hate spicy peppers!”

Me: “These aren’t spicy. They’re sweet and you will like them.”

LMT: “You can’t make me eat them.”

Me: “Actually, I can.”

LMT: “No. I wont.” (pouting)

Me: “Just eat… three slices.”

LMT: “Nooooooo… ” (whining)

Me: “Just one slice.”

LMT : “I hate them!” (much whining)

Me: “Two bites.”

LMT: “No no no no no no no no…”

Me: “One bite. Final offer.”

LMT: (weak baby voice) “o… k… if I have to…” (takes a tiny, tiny bite.)

LMT: “Hey, these are good.” (immediately snarfs two pepper slices)