Let Them Eat Cake

The boys are not overly picky eaters. Sure, they have their respective favorites. Sam can sit down and eat an entire box of cherry tomatoes without breathing. Aidan will devour bell peppers whenever they are put in front of him. And Noah? Noah likes spaghetti sauce. And orange juice.

They also each have foods that they can't stand. Sam thoroughly dislikes bell peppers and spaghetti sauce. Aidan hates orange juice and tomatoes. And Noah absolutely refuses to eat pizza or tomatoes.

Sense something of a pattern here?

Mealtimes in recent weeks have degenerated into elementary school versions of Animal House. Each one incessantly tries to get the other two to laugh until they snort milk out their noses. They sing songs. They complain that they are full. They make rhymes that I'm sure are causing Dr. Seuss to cry out in agony in whatever afterlife he exists in. Take that, Geisel!

So Daddy dropped the hammer last week. Boys started going to bed with no dinner. Boys had no time for anything but teeth brushing and pajamas after dinner. Boys had all snacks removed from their small handed grasp. It made me miserable. And it didn't work.

Leah didn't buy into the heavy handed approach this time. Instead, she painted. In our kitchen, we now have a door that functions as a chalkboard, thanks to the coolest paint I've ever seen. At the top of said chalkboard there is a note that reads:

Good Meals:

5

5 More Until Rainforest Cafe!

Bribery.

Works every time.


After the boys got hold of the chalk, the door quickly became a crowd of scribbles and odd pictures. But above where the twins could reach, the following note was written:

Dear Mommy, thank you for the yummy dinner on March 1.

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to see the response:

Dear Sammy, you're welcome. I'll feed you again on March 2.