The Best Policy

"Honesty is hardly ever heard and mostly what I need from you." -Billy Joel

I said I was done talking about Hurricane Irene after my post from Monday. I lied. (Kind of.)

On Saturday night, I cooked a nice meal for me, the Peanut, and the friends that were hunkered down with us. I made a pot of gravy with ravioli and orecchiette, chicken cutlets, and a nice salad. If we were going to lose power for any extended period of time, I wanted to make sure we were well fed.

The Peanut was fine during dinner, but she didn't eat enough to earn dessert. She ate all of her pasta, one piece of her salad, and none of her meatball or chicken cutlet.

Regardless, she posed the inevitable question she asks nightly, "Daddy, may I have dessert?" I told her no. She didn't eat enough of her salad or her meatball. And she would have to if she wanted dessert.

She is at the age where she understands consequences now. And sometimes she accepts them. So she said, "Then I don't want dessert."

Fine.

Under the circumstances (solo parenting, with company, a huge storm about to hit), I wasn't about to fight her over a few pieces of lettuce.

My friend and I sat there polishing off the rest of the chicken cutlets. Who are we to let them go to waste if God forbid the power goes out? While doing so, his wife was busting out a package of Milano cookies they had brought. (Incidentally, when buying food for a hurricane, it appears most of it winds up being processed, boxed, and/or bagged.)

She offered one to the Peanut. To which my daughter, who continues to amaze me, replied, "No, my daddy said I couldn't have dessert, remember?"

I loved her so much in that moment. This little pain int he a$$ who fights me almost nightly because I make her eat what we eat . Who has to negotiate every single bite. Who asks for dessert just moments after we sit down for dinner.

I got out of my chair, knelt down to hug her and rewarded her for her honesty with a Milano cookie. Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Just when you think the stress of the routine, the anxiety of the coming hurricane, and the neuroses of parenting on your own have involuntarily made you a bad parent, your child will shove a little honesty in your face.

Maybe we're doing something right after all. What that is, I have no idea.

If you missed my full Irene post, click here to read it. Now I'm done with Irene posts... maybe.

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The Streak is Over

"It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his child to be." ~Homer

I finally did it. I finally said it. I said something that I had so prided myself on not saying that I even posted a running total of the number of days that I had not said it on this very blog site.

Then, in an instant, the streak ended. After 1,434 days... the peanut's entire life... I finally said it on a Wednesday night during dinner.

"Because I said so."

The ultimate cop out. The laziest, not-a-real-reason explanation a parent can give to a child. As soon as I said it, I knew it. I caught myself... and said, "I can't believe I just said that."

Why did I say it? Just like I explained before... I was being lazy. I said it without thinking. It happened so fast. I wish I could take it back.

There we were, at the dinner table. The nightly negotiation with the peanut had begun. She wanted to know how many more green beans she had to eat before she could be finished. I said five. She said three. I said four. She said two. You have to love her negotiating style. We settled on three. Little does my daughter know that I always put more on her plate than I expect or want her to eat.

I want her to eat five whole green beans. I put seven on her plate. She eats two. Then she asks, "how many more?" And our tango ensues...

So after we settle on a number for green beans, we move on to dessert negotiations. Namely, what she will be allowed to have for dessert, assuming she eats her green beans. Tonight, she asks for cookies, or candy. Not knowing how much fruit she ate that day, and assuming how many sugary snacks she was given, I told her she can have yogurt or applesauce for dessert. If she finished her green beans.

And here is where I slipped. "Why, daddy?" And I thought about it, and said, "Because you probably had enough sweets today." I knew that was too vague of a response for her. She kept pressing... she just wanted a reason.

Now throw in that 1) I was still getting over being sick, 2) I was tired from a long day of work while still feeling sick, 3) I had prepared a delicious meal (chicken marsala thank you very much) that my wife, who was now sick beacuse of me, could enjoy, and you get "Because I said so."

Ugh. The worst. What kind of mail-it-in parent says "because I said so?" Me. That's who. This once. Hopefully this last time.

What I meant to say was, "I bought you ice cream yesterday because you felt sick (I got her sick too) and I know you had some after lunch today." But I didn't. Instead, I mailed it in.

My wife wanted to give me a break because of my physical and mental state at the time... but that's the thing. You can't take a break. There is no break from parenting... or, at least, from good parenting.

So reset the ticker... we're starting another streak. And I'm bringing my "A" game. Again.

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