Friday, August 1, 2008

Beefaroni for Breakfast

I gave my daughter BEEFARONI for breakfast this morning. Yes, I know it's gross. This is one of many things that I thought I would never, EVER do--feed my daughter disgusting processed non-breakfast food for breakfast just because she won't eat anything else. This is added to feeding her McDonald's more than once a week, ignoring when she eats her boogers and giving her candy just to make her be quiet. Don't get me wrong--before you call DSS you should know that these are not regular occurrences around our household, but sometimes you just can't take another whine, squeal or tug and you GIVE IN. I rationalized the beefaroni incident by telling myself that I would rather her eat something crappy and non-breakfasty for breakfast than nothing at all. But really, the 10 minute conversation that preceded it was the real reason. Here is how it went:

MOMMY: What would you like for breakfast baby girl?


MOMMY: (Making a silly, scrunched up face) Noooo, that's not for breakfast silly!

BABY GIRL: Yes, breakfast! BEEFARONI! (The reason beefaroni is always in capitals is because it is always said five times louder than everything else.)

MOMMY: How about...waffles?


MOMMY: Cereal?


MOMMY: I can make yummy eggs...


MOMMY: How about toast?

BABY GIRL: Nope. No toast. BEE--FA--RO--NEEEE!

MOMMY: (Sighing) Beefaroni is not for breakfast baby.

BABY GIRL: Toaster waffles are for breakfast?

MOMMY: Yes! Yes! You want toaster waffles?

BABY GIRL: No--BEEFARONI. (This was topped off by the sweetest squinty-eyed smile that you have ever seen, as if she knew she was too cute to be said no to.)

This is when I hung my head in defeat and said that yes, I would make her beefaroni for breakfast. I had to be very careful though, because her brother wasn't up yet and if he had walked in while she was eating beefaroni for breakfast, I would have gotten a barrage of complaints that I never made him macaroni and cheese or tacos for breakfast (which are both things he has requested before). Luckily, she ate her beefaroni happily and when her brother came downstairs, all the evidence was destroyed. The only things that remained were her satisfied grin and my shame from my lack of conviction.