We have endeavored in our parenting not to make certain things a battle. The Kaiser and I decided long ago on co-sleeping, not crying it out, and giving the kids tons of new and yummy things to eat. For the most part, our efforts have paid off. Despite bad nights here and there, the Count now sleeps in his own bed. Neither of our children have ever cried themselves to sleep. And the Count, mostly, will eat just about anything. Until recently, that is.

Last night, after roasting a chicken and recycling yesterday’s grilled veggie pasta salad, dinner was ready. The three of us (Queen, Princess Peanut, and Count Waffles the TERRIBLE–you’ll see why I capitalized that in a sec) sat down as per usual and I poured chocolate milk as per usual and endured rice cereal and bananas in my hair as per usual. Then I, stupidly, got up to get a Tylenol out of the cupboard. This is also the same cupboard where the C-A-N-D-Y (yes, I’m still spelling it…just in case) is hidden. Count Waffles, being the genius that he is, immediately spies the Pez his Nana stashed up there.
“Mamma. I want some candy?”
“Eat your dinner, then you can have one.”
The Count then proceeded to shove ALL the chicken on his plate, in his mouth. All of it. ALL OF IT PEOPLE.
(with a muffled voice) “Can I have some candy now, Mamma?”
“Make it all go in your belly.”
You can see his eyes get really wide, like he realizes…shit, how the hell am I going to do that?
If this were Iron Chef, Chairman Kaga would now, very gay-like, take a bite of that pepper and declare BATTLE CHICKEN has begun.
The Kaiser and I are making a really, really big effort to stay consistent these days. You know, trying to be good parents, blah blah blah. So this means he must eat every single piece of chicken in his mouth or no candy.
So. Time passed. He tried to spit it out, but was warned there would be no candy. So he kept chewing. More time passed. He begged for the candy. I stood firm. More time passed. And passed. And passed.
One hour and 37 minutes later he swallowed all of the chicken. ONE HOUR AND 37 MINUTES OF CHEWING CHICKEN.
Tonight’s winner: Mommy. Battle Chicken is OOOVVVVAAAH!

Some housekeeping:
Thanks to
Homer Jay for the Einstein link. He and his wife Tired Tunia are my latest blogroll additions.
Stranded in Suburbia’s Laurie has a new, vomit inducing, spinning globe on her site. Go give her some love ’cause her Haloscan sucks.
scholastic flier books arrived at school for the Count. They discretely handed them to the parents before the bell. I guess this means I’m off to the hook to buy more, until he switches schools anyway.
The Kaiser has yet to tell everyone how he was duped like a sucker and
Battle Pajama ended. I think he’s just a wuss. Let’s just say, his lack of paying attention bit him in the ass. That being said, he also spent 4.5 hours of his work day yesterday IN A BAR. So I’ve got no sympathy for him.


  1. LMAO, i too try to get the kids to eat everything that might be good for them. my older son wouldnt eat meat of any kind until he was two! now the baby wont eat meat either. they love their veggies though, so i guess it evens out. btw i LOVE iron chef, we watch every night at 11 pm on food network.

  2. I’m now hooked on Iron Chef America. Back in the day (b.k. -before kids) many a night was spent laughing at Ota and playing the Iron Chef drinking game. The Count actually ate all his chicken tonight without a fuss and tomatoes, peppers, zuccini, etc. Strange. Maybe it was better as leftovers?

  3. Wow – I doff my proverbial hat in admiration of your fine victory! Well played – your not the Queen of Spain for nothing!!!!
    Lesson learned I think!

  4. Way to go – my Lukecifer would have just had a straight up temper tantrum and not eaten anything.

    As I was reading that, I was hoping that you weren’t going to have to do the Heimleich maneuver… I hate when my kids shove too much food in their mouths, because as they are doing so, I am reviewing emergency life-saving techniques in my head.

    I co-slept with both of my boys and they made the transition from bed to crib (at around 6 months) without a fuss.

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