Standing Strong

I talk a good game about being strong in the discipline of my boys. I know what I should do to "train them up," but as most parents (I hope) I sometimes fall short in the small things--like dinner.

I've tried to make my children eat their dinner--or at least take a few bites. Then if they don't like it, they can have something different. I think it's been harder to stick to that with John's celiac. It's hard to make him try something he doesn't like knowing that there's so much he does like that he can't have.

But I did it last night! I made taco soup. Yummy, not-too-spicy-just-spicy-enough, warm-in-the-cold-weather taco soup. I thought about making GF cornbread, but John wouldn't eat it so what's the point. So I made "real" cornbread for the rest of us. It was sooooo good!

I knew it wasn't a kid favorite. I didn't care. I'm trying to plan menus and stick to a budget and by golly--eat what's put in front of you. I had secretly (meaning I hadn't even told Richard) already decided that I would make quesadillas (easy microwave ones--lest you think I was going to do double-duty in the kitchen) for the boys if they tried the soup. Here's the summary:

Chris--ate most of his bowl--moving around the tomatoes and certain beans.
John--ate most of his bowl without moving all the "icky" stuff around--just ate it! Yay! He even said how surprised he was that it was good. I'll just take that as a compliment.
James--stared at his bowl. Stared at the table. Stared at the floor. Drank half his glass of milk. Stared some more. Reached for the cornbread and was told no--twice. After 30 minutes, he was dismissed from the table to his room. He never even picked up his spoon!

And I was strong. He never got another bite to eat. He went to bed without supper. And guess what. He survived. He woke up at 5:00 this morning and had a bowl of cereal. Went back to bed and got up again at 8 and had another bowl of cereal. I don't know if he learned anything--time will tell on that.

I think it's easier to be strong in this house. His room is upstairs--and so I don't have to see him wandering around the house looking pathetic and starving. And maybe--just maybe--he'll give dinner a try next time. Or maybe he'll choose to go without. So...maybe I haven't regained any power at all.