Sterling hates tomatoes. He always has. He loves ketchup. He loves spaghetti sauce. But he hates tomatoes. Tonight, we had BLT sandwiches for supper. He had half a sandwich with extra bacon. I was trying to be nice.
He didn’t see nice. He saw tomatoes.
He sat staring at the dreaded sandwich for far longer than toasted sandwiches ought to exist, then started nibbling.
Bread crusts became his favorite part of the meal. Imagine that.
He choked it all down after attempting to get out of it any which way he could. He stared longingly at Ellie’s peanut butter sandwich. Ellie also hates tomatoes, but I pick my battles when they are one. Eating a BLT isn’t on the top of my list of preferred one year old battles.
When he was almost finished, I commented to him that he was really being a pain in the behind.
He grimaced. Sterling is a peacemaker if there ever was one, and making life difficult isn’t his idea of fun. (It’s Pierce’s.)
“I’m not the one who said I don’t like tomatoes!”
My raised eyebrow had him considering what he’d said.
“I mean, I am, but, but… I didn’t tell my tongue not to like them!”
He got an extra piece of bacon for his willingness to comply despite his tongue’s obvious displeasure.