See that cute face above? His name is Mocha. I give him a zero for today.
Hoot woke up this morning in a fragile mood. It happens to us all. We had to wake him up rather than let him ease into awareness and that’s never a good start. Shortly after, I made a grave mistake. I tried to wipe his nose. I don’t know what I was thinking — I blame my gag reflex.
We’d barely overcome that disaster when I tried to distract him with breakfast.
I offered him cereal.
“Cereal is gross.”
I offered him the second easiest option: instant oatmeal.
“Oatmeal is gross.”
Now he was really beside himself. Desperate, I offered him a peanut butter and banana smoothie. He loves smoothies.
“Smoothies is disgusting.”
I commented on his improving vocabulary, but he was crumpling to the floor.
“Bread and cheese.”
We had only the stale remnants of Friday’s challah. If anyone out there is thinking their parents gave them whatever they had in their house for breakfast and they didn’t complain: shut up.
I explained the situation to Hoot.
He wiped his eyes.
“I want stale bread and cheese.”
I had no cheese, but fast forward, he accepted butter. A short time later, and after a confounding diversion where he demanded I balance the plate on the wall, he was dressed and happily eating his bread at the table.
And then Mocha came by and ate it right in front of us, right off the plate. Every time I think we’ve cured him of his food thieving ways, he proves me wrong.
Hoot proved me wrong, too. I thought for sure this would set off another crying jag and ruin my chance to get out the door on time. After a kiss, a hug, and a granola bar, Hoot told me, “I be brave. I no cry anymore today.” Poor sweet, cheese-loving boy.