Conversations with Terrible

What does my daughter say when I place a bowl of cheesy and buttered noodles in front of her for a late dinner? "Thank you?"


"Yummy, mommy?"

Hell no.

Instead, the most opinionated two-year-old in the world takes one look at the sub-par offerings and pushes the plate away with a disgusted look on her face.


I raise an eyebrow.

Buttercup purses her lips and crunches her own eyebrows into a glare.

"I don't like it...and...I...don'" And the most declarative sentence in the history of man has just been uttered by the little girl who likes princesses and ponies and just so happens to love the very cheesy noodles she is refusing.

My jaw drops. And before I have time to think about it, I walk into the bathroom connected to the kitchen and close the door. I'm just in time. My whole body collapses in laughter while tears stream down my eyes. After composing myself, I go back into the kitchen and tell Buttercup she has to taste her dinner before she can have her milk and be excused. I'm not negotiating and she knows it, so she willingly opens her mouth for one bite. Then another. And before we both know it, she's eaten all of her dinner (for once.)

Final score for the evening: Mama: 1- Buttercup: 0.