Chicken Dinosaurs

Here's a little story:

Tonight I spent two and a half hours at the breakfast table in the company of a 19 month old who turns out to be as stubborn as her mother. Of course I prefer to refer to that character quality in myself as perseverance.

Let's just say that Abby's palette isn't overly developed. All I can get her to eat meat wise are hot dogs and sometimes corny dogs, but she just pulls the breading off those and eats the hot dog. I'm sure her refusal to eat anything but processed tube steaks reveals some horrible flaw in my parenting abilities. I knew I should have started her on vegetables instead of fruit.

Well, tonight I laid down the gantlet. I drew the line in the sand. I put on my running shoes. I told Abby that she could not get down from her high chair until she ate one bite of CHICKEN. Now don't judge me to harshly. I wasn't forcing her to eat some slimy piece of baked chicken, or dried and blackened grilled chicken. It was one tiny bite of a chicken dinosaur. Anne loves them. I mean who wouldn't there fried. I know, I know it's not a far cry from hot dogs, but it is a different animal and a step in the right direction.

Abby wasn't afraid of the challenge. She threw a fit or two or ten, but I didn't cave! She smiled, cooed, and blew kisses, but I held strong. She tried to fling her chicken on the floor, but I caught it. She spit her milk everywhere, but I cleaned it up. I was going to win! Not that this was a game or anything.

I popped popcorn and ate it front of her telling her she could have some if she ate one bite of chicken. Anne and Scott played outside and inside and I told her she could join them if she just ate one bite. I even busted out a juice box. The only time the girls consume juice boxes are at other peoples homes or for Anne, lunch at KK. She didn't budge, just smushed her chicken with her finger. Abby was going to win!

Bedtime was getting closer and closer and I had visions of having to bring out this bite of chicken for breakfast. So, I approached my baby girl and said eat your chicken or else (I will not reveal what the "or else" is on this blog, but for a small fee I might be willing to release this genius piece of parenting information) and . . . SHE ATE IT. After that she ate another piece. I AM VICTORIOUS! I mean yay Abby has now hopefully added a second protein to her exclusive repertoire.

FYI:
A 19 month who spends two and a half hours in a high chair is usually super hyper when set free from its confines.