Our top story today comes from Kyla, who is the very essence of the picky eater I did not raise her to be. Today, I served deli-sliced turkey rolled up around shredded cheddar, warmed it up, and called it a turkey taco. Kyla unrolled hers, declared she did not like this meat and would only eat the cheese. I asked her to try the meat, and she took her infamous miniscule bite. And then another. And another. Then declared, “Mama, I do like this.”
I don’t think this will ever happen again, so I needed to record it.
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This afternoon, Kyla and Piper were playing outside, and came running up to me saying excitedly, “Mama, you’re the wicked queen and you are our mother!” I whole-heartedly agreed with both statements (it had been a rough day, Wesley-wise, and I hadn’t even to the worst of it yet, I discovered later) and my wicked princesses informed me that they were making a trap for Captain Hook. I asked if they wanted to help me make granola bars. Piper’s response? “OH, YES! Let’s make poisoned granola bars!!”
We went inside and I told her that I didn’t think I had poisonous bananas, and she carefully explained that some bananas were poisonous and some weren’t, and she could tell the difference. She found a banana, black from the freezer, and declared it poisoned. Everything we added, except the chocolate chips was poisonous, it turns out.
Sorry, Rochelle. Did I not tell you that before I cut an extra-big piece for you?
The girls’ “wicked” faces!