At breakfast, my daughter announced that she no longer has fond feelings for my husband. I believe the word ‘hate’ was used, but since by that point she was in the midst of a double duck fit, one can’t be too sure.
The reason for all this? When she bit into her cracker, it broke in two. She then walked up to the counter with said ruined cracker and demanded a new one.
‘Forget it.’ Max said.
Cue pandemonium, and a bit of a power struggle.
Max: ‘Stop it. Eat your cracker.’
The Girl: ‘NO! IT’S GROSS!’
Max: ‘Eat. Your. Cracker.’
The Girl: ‘I WANT CEREAL!’
The Girl: *Incoherent screaming*
Max: *Unimpressed laughter*
She was losing, she knew it. I could tell by the way her eyes darted around the kitchen. Then, she tipped her plate and let her cracker pieces fall onto the floor.
Still unimpressed, my husband took a bite of his own delicious, unbroken cracker. He chewed, he swallowed, and they were staring each other down as he did. Then…
Max: ‘You’re still going to eat that cracker.’
And then more incoherent screaming and the recantation of love.
Kids, man. They bring such peace and serenity into your life.
She did, however, eat the cracker. Eventually.