Wyatt is one stubborn little son of a gun these days and he has been refusing to eat things he doesn't care for. Unfortunately for him, when need be, I am also one stubborn little son of a gun.

Wyatt refused to eat his spinach salad on Saturday evening because Stephen drizzled it with olive oil. I decided Wyatt needed to sit at the table until he finished his salad. I cleaned the kitchen, shut off the lights, read Henry a bedtime story and tucked him in. Wyatt sat at the table the entire time. Stephen (softie) dismissed Wyatt from the table while I was running a bath for myself.



On Sunday morning, Wyatt refused to eat his eggs not because they had spinach in them, but because he doesn't like eggs. They are his worst enemy! He sat in front of his plate for over an hour. He didn't eat them. When it was time for lunch, I told him he had to eat his eggs before I would fix him anything new.



Because I wouldn't want to eat cold eggs from three hours ago, I offered to reheat them and put them in a tortilla. Wyatt request that I mix in some leftover black beans and sour cream to make a burrito. And then he ate his eggs. They were delicious.



I am not really sure what the point of all of this is. It seems to be more of power play than a push for good nutrition. I have a very vivid memory of sitting in the dark staring at a plate of peas for what seemed liked hours.

Isn't this just one of those things that parents do? Make you eat what you are served unless you're allergic to it? I don't know. But if I had to do it, then my kids will have to do it, too. 'Cause I'm the mom! So there. Now eat your eggs before I break you legs!