Yesterday I allowed Grace to eat her nursery candy for lunch. I knew it was a bad idea, but I cherished delusional (and idiotic, in hindsight) hopes for her eating fried rice as well when we got home. I suppose I could have immediately confiscated the treats, listened to the screaming for the half hour it took to finish all the churchy biz, and then doled them out in some sort of responsible way over the next few days. But how fun would that be? (And what kind of self control do they think I have? I can't keep myself out of our Halloween candy, much less my child.)
Today she has been Princess Whineypants, so I am repenting in sackcloth and pajamas for my poor parenting. Sometimes I feel as if the nutrition side of parenthood is a runaway train headed for sugar induced diabetic disaster. But before you judge, you might first want to attempt to entice a two-year-old to eat spaghetti squash for dinner after the nursery leader gives her a bag full of fruit snacks, taffy, and Nerds.