This is going to be long, so don't be afraid to click away before you have to hear the whole sordid story.
Tonight, a shameful event took place in our home. I have to start at the beginning:
I was planning dinner. Finny asked what we were having and I told her I was making an Asian Chicken Salad. She turned her nose up, complained loudly and then went to look for a sibling to reinforce her demands for a different dinner. Sigh. This is a common refrain around here.
Finny didn't have to look far for support in her "Change Our Meal" campaign. Lucas stepped up and marched on the kitchen with his sister. They demanded a non-salad option. Fine. I told them I would make a Vegetable Chow Mein; news that was met with cheers. Actual cheering.
I was buoyed by their enthusiasm. I made the food. Two meals. One for Eric and me and a separate dinner for the kids.
Molly and Finny gobbled up the Chow Mein.
Mr. March-on-Washington-for-kids'-dinner-rights never showed up. Lukey never even picked up his bowl from the kitchen counter. It sat there while I called him. No dice. Alright. I am sick of making that kid food and then fighting with him to eat it. Half an hour earlier he was cheering. Like, clapping and jumping up and down.
It was time to pull out the big guns. Lucas knows that if he doesn't eat dinner, he doesn't get dessert. I made cookies. Fresh, baked in the oven, still warm, chocolate chunk cookies. I made a big deal of putting them in the oven. The smell wafted through the room.
Lukey never wavered. He left his food on the counter and blithely bounced around the living room, brushing off my reminders to eat.
The cookie timer went off. The cookies came out. The cookies smelled gooooood. I looked over to see if Lukey was cracking. Nothing.
The four of us dove into the (truly divine) cookies. The only time a chink appeared in the little fellow's armour was when he asked for a tiny bite of my second cookie. I turned him down flat.
It was bedtime and Molly, Finny, Eric and I were up in our bed getting ready to read a story. I called Lukey. He didn't answer. I told him he had to come right away, or he was going to miss stories too. I didn't hear from him. Whatever, I was done with that little turkey.
We started reading and about ten minutes into the book, in walks this kid. He has this devil-may-care look on his face. Cheeky, almost cocky. He marches in and starts to climb up into bed. The only problem?
His entire face is covered in chocolate.
Not a smidgen of chocolate, not a crumb in his corner, but most of his face.
Eric and I started to laugh. Lukey immediately realized that the jig was up. His face flashed fear, then he bolted.
He hid. We went to confirm that the cookies were all gone. They sure were. I figure he just wanted to check that there were still some left, but found himself all alone downstairs and lost a battle with temptation.
We tracked him down and I discovered chocolate all over. He had it down to his ankles. His ANKLES. I don't know if he ate the cookies or rolled in them.
We gave him a chance to confess properly and apologize, but no way was he backing down. He never spoke a word from the time we confronted him to when Eric lifted him into bed and we shut the door. I was frustrated and a bit impressed at the same time. He is stubborn. He wasn't cracking, even in the face of insurmountable evidence.
What a stinker.