Battle of the Will

My almost-two-year-old son has been throwing food on the floor his entire life. Forks, spoons, cups, even plates, seem to find their way to the floor on occasion. More occasions than not, unfortunately. We've tried various tactics to solve this dilemma. Here's how it went this morning.

7:45 a.m. - The plate was turned over and the food went to the floor. The plate slipped down 2 seconds later. Three pieces of pancake and four pieces of sausage went flying.

Me: You need to clean up your mess. Put the pancake and sausage back on your plate.

Him: No. I won't. I can't.

Me: Yes, you can. Clean it up.

Him: I want Thomas the train.

Me: You can have him after you put the food back on the plate.

Him: (with pathetic puppy dog eyes) Mama! I want the football.

Me: No football until after you clean this up.

This type of conversation went on for a few more minutes. He would not pick up his mess, so I would not let him leave the 3 foot by 3 foot area around his plate.

Here he was at 8:45 a.m. I'm not kidding - an entire hour later.

Don't let the picture fool you. He tried to leave the area many, many times. He was not impressed with the imaginary bounderies I built for him.

Here he is at 9:15 a.m. - 1 1/2 hours had passed since the plate hit the floor.

I think his brother started feeling a bit sorry for him. After this picture he looked up and said, "Mom, what if he has to stay here until Christmas?" I told him he would need to pick up his food if he wanted to open up any Christmas presents.

At 1 hour and 45 minutes, he asked to play with Thomas for the 100th time. I told him for the 100th time that he could go as soon as he picked up has pancake and sausage. And he did it.

Hallelujah.

Whoever said, "Third time's a charm," never had children.