Friday, July 30, 2010

Patience? Not with food

We haven’t had too many tantrums … thank goodness. But when we do, they’re usually good ones! You’d think the world was ending. And 9 times out of 10, it revolves around food. As in, Biscuit thinks we’re never going to feed him ever again!

Jeff and Biscuit met me out shopping last week, and as I headed to the check out counters, I realized it was later than I thought. I looked at Jeff and said, “What do you think about going to The Hut?” I couldn’t say “pizza” or “dinner” because Biscuit knows exactly what those words mean. And as sweet as he can be, he will melt down on the spot if we mention food and don’t have any to give him. Plus, I’ve discussed just how much our boy loves pizza.


Since Jeff had his own car, he headed over early, hoping that he could order, and it would be on the table by the time we got there. Wrong! The Hut was packed! Biscuit and I got there, and Jeff had just placed our order. It was already 7:15, so I knew Biscuit was hungry.


We were playing with his Hot Wheels cars on the table, and I thought we might be okay. And then it happened. The family behind me got their pizza. The family behind Jeff got their pizza. And the family out beside us got their pizza. All within 30 seconds.

Jeff and I looked at each other, then looked a Griffin. I think Jeff and I both physically winced knowing that it was coming. Biscuit could see their pizza. He could smell their pizza. And he had no idea why they all had pizza and he didn’t. “SEET-SAH!!!!! SEET-SAH!!!! SEEEEEEEET-SAAAAAAAAH!!!! he yelled, mixed in with sobs.


This is the same kid who rides 7 hours in the car to Georgia with no complaining. This is the same kid who spends an hour riding in the buggy around Target just naming over all the things he knows words for … dog, baby, car, ball.


But when it comes to food, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PATIENCE!!!!!


Finally, our pizza came. As the server put it on the table, Biscuit’s little eyes just lit up. There was a huge smile on his face. And then I said one of the words he hates most. “Hot. It’s too hot, baby.” And there he goes again.


He sees the pizza. He smells the pizza. The pizza is sitting right in front of his face, but he can’t have any? What?!?!? So I’m slicing and dicing and blowing on his pizza until I dang-near hyperventilated. I finally got a piece cooled off enough and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmmmm,” he said. “More? More?”


“Dang! I just got that piece cooled down.” Slice, dice, hyperventilate … slice, dice, hyperventilate … slice, dice, hyperventilate. Eventually, it was all cool enough for him to eat. And then he was back to my sweet little Biscuit.

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