Today at Meijers, my eldest managed to figure out how to employ the pouty face with the correct social interactions. First she asked why I didn't let her take Magic blanket into the store if the OTHER girl they met who was older than her could have her stuffed kitty. Then she stared longingly into the doughnut case as I tried to whisk them past it. Then she said with a slight pouty face, "I've never had a red doughnut before."
That was all. She just stood and stared. A few minutes later there were four doughnuts (one red, one containing a Bee acceptable worm, one Anya sparkly and one chocolate chocolate) in a box in the cart. My willpower and reason were abandoned in the face of self restraint and non-bugginess.
We brought them home, along with the milk that we were supposed to buy. I unloaded them from the car, and designated the donut box to Cora. Our new place requires a few yard hike from the car port to our door. The doughnuts arrived with very little frosting smeared off considering they were flipped twice and tossed willy nilly onto the kitchen table. I quickly seated small ones and plated doughnuts. Cora received her whole pie, as well as Bee, whose appetite at lunch lacked her usual vigor. Anya, who consumed copious amounts of hummus for so small a child, I gave a quarter of a chocolate sprinkled special. I had no intention of allowing her the entire doughnut. There was no way she could fit the whole thing in her stomach, and if she tried to, she would probably return some of it early.
Then I made my first mistake. I put the milk away without consuming my own doughnut. As I walked back into the room, my elder children fled back to their seats, and my own doughnut and Anya's remaining three quarters had several large chunks missing. Admonishing them to stay seated I took a few bites, and slipped off to the bath room.
That was my second mistake. They DID listen, and only ate their own doughnut. In fact, my own sweet stood temptingly upon my plate when I returned. However, Anya's plate was empty. "What happened to Anya's doughnut?" I asked.
"She couldn't reach it, so I gave it to her." Cora explained. At this comment, the sugar high, chocolate smeared one year old smiled. I re-assessed my opinion of her stomach cavity, and reminded myself not to put any pressure on her abdomen while holding her over carpet.
"Done!" Anya said, waving a frosting and sprinkle covered palm, then pausing, she stared at the center of her hand. She licked it, giggled and reached for her hair.
Nobody ate much at dinner tonight.
As for that special red frosting, for the girl whom adores red, it tastes "scrumptious, like cherry tomatoes."
Glad I had the chocolate on chocolate, cherry tomato flavored frosting sounds just a bit odd to me.