I was shocked to hear from Patrick's pre-school teacher that he ate two bowls of chili for lunch last week! "With beans?" I asked in disbelief.
"Oh yes, kidney beans and brown beans," she said.
"It was yummy, Mommy. I dipped my bread in it." HOLY CRAP! Patrick ate chili??? Patrick ate chili on his own free will? He ate beans? He ate sauce? What kind of wacky parallel universe is this??? I was completely shocked, and honestly I felt a bit betrayed! I love chili, and I've made it many times, with no hope in He*# that my kids would eat it. Patrick not only ate his entire bowl at pre-school, but he asked for another. It was as if I had been slapped in the face, although I felt a strange sense of hope at the same time.
This was one of the pivotal moments that led me to my realisation that something was going terribly wrong with meal time at my house. It made me see more clearly that the battles we had at dinner were stemming more from power struggles than a real dislike of food. If Patrick could eat two bowls of chili, including beans and sauce, then anything was possible.... :)
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