Green Eggs and Ham

She had one small scoop of Risotto, the dish she devours at Grammys. She had a small bowl of peaches, and a lightly toasted slice of sourdough bread her Papí baked. She was starving, at least until we presented the family meal.

We have been attempting to incorporate both of our children into our meals since all they ever want is macaroni and cheese. We have grown tired of making multiple meals each and every night. There was a time that this was never an issue. Emma would eat what we ate. I will admit that the past two years have made us stray from our standards, but we have been attempting to merge them back into our daily activities.

She dove into the peaches, literally, with her hands. She did not touch the pasta. She tossed the bread off of the plate and demanded to be excused from the table.

"Take one bite of the pasta and then you can get down," her mother proposed.
"Nooooooooooo!" Ellie screamed.

A short time passed as we attempted to ignore the two-year old bending over the edge of her booster seat.
"Do you want to get down?" I asked.
"YEAHHHH!" she replied.
"Then you need to take one bite."
"Nooooooooooo!" she returned.

Abbie picked up the spoon, "Just one, you love this. Here, I will give it to you."
"Nooooooooooo!"

I ganged up, "El, just one, then you can get down."
Her peach juice covered-hands slapped violently against her forehead, hiding the thought of taking that one bite.

Abbie dropped the spoon and rose from the table.
"Do you want to get down?" I coaxed.
"Yes," she whimpered.
"Then just take this one bite." I repeated while trying to pick up the plastic neon green spoon.
"Nooooooooooo!"

The juice was waxing her hair up in a Cameron Diaz "Something About Mary" way. The tension was really rising, and our patience was dropping like a concrete wheelbarrow.

"Do you want this for breakfast?" I regurgitated from my own childhood.
"Nooooooooooo!"
"Then take one bite, and then you can get down."
"Nooooooooooo!"

I walked to the pantry, got the water spray gun usually used for squirting misbehaving pets and returned to the round table. Not proud to say, but this technique has worked in the past in similar situations. Ellie was familiar to the plastic pink water bottle and stopped screaming for just a moment.

"You need to take one more bite."
"Nooooooooooo!"
I began the countdown, "One...."
"...Two..."
"Nooooooooooo!" she squawked.
"...Three!" I threatened with a sharp pull of the trigger.
Water misted all over her, as she turned from the moisture.

Still nothing.

Abbie came rushing to the table. She picked up the utensil. Brought it to Ellie's face. With her free hand, she pinched the shrieking mouth and flopped the half spoonful of cheddar risotto inside.

Silence.

"Chew it all." I chimed, picturing the pieces to be spit across the dining table, the water canister still in hand.

Silence as she swallowed the morsel.

"MORE!" she demanded with a single tear slipping down her cherub face. Disheveled with frustration, her mother sank into the nearby seat and fed all of the remaining food from the plate into the happy hungry face.