Matt bought some fantastic bread this week. Something multi-grained, whole grain something-or-other. It'll make fantastic toast. But when Oceana asked for a sandwich this morning, I knew we were in trouble. It's great bread, but two slices of that with sandwich ingredients and it'll be Thursday before she finishes it!
I tried to convince her she'd want a "little" sandwich, made from skinny slices of the baguette I made yesterday at lunchtime. But one quick shreek and I knew better than to try and keep selling that idea. And I abandoned the idea of trying to tell her she'd only need a 1/2 sandwich. I know my daughter, and there some stupid things I simply don't want to fight about.
She's 3 you know. And at three she's just old enough to know what she wants, knows what I'm telling her, but is slllllllloooooowwwwwllllllllyyyyyy catching on to the concept of self-control. As in, "Quit whining Oceana! The baby just wants to look at your toy!" Followed quickly by, "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" at some unmentionable decibel.
We're working on that self-control stuff.
But back to the sandwich. In a fit of brilliance, or Mommy Desperation, whatever you want to call it, I pulled out the serrated knife. I started carefully at one corner and worked my way around until I felt the top slice slip away. Voila! Two very skinny slices from one piece of bread! Aha! And Oceana thinks she gets a whole sandwich!
And then she ruined my brilliance by insisting on crunchy peanut butter and Marmite on it. She insisted that I "liked" Marmite. I tried to tell her that no, in fact I don't. (Inside my head I'm saying, "You are sooo wrong kiddo. That stuff's disgusting!")
But it worked, she ate the sandwich. Well, half of it anyways. But I'm saving it for this afternoon's snack. Coz I'm
cheap like that thrifty.