There was a time when X-Man ate whatever was put in front of him. And asked for more. This is not that time. He carefully picked all the vegetables out of his soup and piled them on the table. I instructed him to not do that. He carefully picked them up and dumped them in Mac’s bowl.  Looking back the whole incident, clearly Cinco rubbing the garlic bread in her hair shouldn’t have been my priority. Even though I don’t know how I’m going to wash her hair, as she’s still scared of water. 

Except when I’m taking a shower, then she’s convinced she should get in with me. Until I actually let her in…..them defcon hysteria.

X-Man’s finicky eating is still very toddler-esque. He won’t eat any dinner placed in front of him. He will eat dinner if he is sitting in my lap and eating off my plate. The father figure frowns on this greatly. As I should, but half the time I’m just happy he’s eating. Not that my fifty pound three year old is undernourished at all.

I should encourage the lack of eating in order to curb the boy’s energy. He’s upped the busyness to match the excitement of the season. He’s convinced that I’m holding out on him and that there really are bouncy balls hanging on the Christmas tree. He’ll find them if he has to test every. single. one.  Meanwhile Cinco is convinced that the snowflake ornaments are really cookies. She thinks she’s sly. The glitter on her lips betrays her.

I’d keep writing by X-Man just crawled into my lap, gave me a kiss and ran off. Which means he just did something very naughty. And messy.