Picture this… Dinner is on the table. Pink and Purple are quietly drinking their bottles. Princess Daddy and I are going over the details of our day, our first real conversation since last night and classical music plays quietly in the background with candles lit on the table centerpiece…
HAHAHA. That is NOT dinner at our house.
As I scarfed down my chicken quesadilla, you could hear the annoyed tone in my voice as I asked Orange for the hundredth time to get a fork to eat her Mexican rice. She pranced around the kitchen in her Snow White dress and way-too-big high heels not concerned with what I was saying at all. Princess Daddy chimed in and still, it was as if she was deaf, not even turning her head. (Every time she has a developmental screening for school, they ask me if I have any concerns about her hearing… My reply is standard, “Oh she can hear alright, she just doesn’t listen!”)
Just as I’m warming up the sweet potatoes and cinnamon for the twinfants, Orange reaches the silverware drawer and pulls out chopsticks. The conversation went a little like this: Orange says, “Mom, I’m ready to eat now.” Without even batting an eye, I reply “Get a fork. We don’t use chopsticks to eat ri…” DAMN the kid is right again.
Princess Daddy uses chopsticks when we eat stir fry or sweet and sour chicken, you know Asian cuisines, Mexican rice though? Well, in the eyes of a three-year-old, rice is rice.
P.S. She has no idea how to use chopsticks, she just enjoys putting them in her mouth and acting like a walrus. I have never taught her that.