The Grilled Cheese Incident

Today, I learned the meaning of the old parenting chestnut: Never make a threat you can’t follow through with.

Matt and I are already referring to today as “The Day of the Grilled Cheese Incident.”

Matt had the day off of work, so we decided to take a family outing to the Bristol Zoo. I love outings like this. When I get to a new place I go into “commando tourist” mode; I feel immediately compelled to see and do as many things as possible. If, at the end of the day, my feet aren’t sore from walking, I feel like I haven’t used my time wisely.

So, I was looking forward to the zoo. But first, he had to grab some lunch. It was noon by the time we left the apartment, and we wanted to make sure we grabbed a meal at a lunch-appropriate time. Our eating schedule has been totally random lately, and we wanted to start to make more of an effort to start taking meals at the same time as everyone else around us.

To that end, we stopped at a sandwich shop down the street. Frankie, claiming to be hungry, ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. The second it arrived in front of her, she totally dug her heels in and refused to eat so much as a bite. Frankie is the world’s pickiest eater, and for some reason didn’t like the color of the cheese in her sandwich. (The cheddar inside was white, not orange. Horrors!)

Before I had time to process the full ramifications of my words, I heard the following sentence leave my lips: “If you don’t eat at least half of that sandwich, we’re not going to go to the zoo.”

Frankie, nonplussed, just looked at me and said, “Fine. So can I have some chocolate now?”

I was pretty stunned. I thought that the mere thought of having the zoo outing revoked would make Frankie suffer through a few measly bites of her sandwich.

But I was so, so wrong. Never underestimate the stubbornness of a four-year-old.

She touched her tongue to one of the corners of crust, but that was about as close as she ever got to taking a bite. So, even though we were all packed up for the zoo and on our way to the car, we had to change course and head back to the apartment.

I blame myself.

In the end the consequences were more like a punishment for me than they were for Frankie. I think on some level, she is actually enjoying a boring day at the apartment. I can hear her in the other room right now, having her SpiderMan action figure visit the “fairies and unicorns” playset we bought her yesterday. (Don’t you kind of love the weirdness of that combination?)

Me…? Well, I’m just pacing around, wishing I was at the zoo.