"Mommy! Crying!"

Today, I reached a milestone in my parenting career. 

I faked tears to get my son to do something he didn't want to do. 

Yeah, if you boil it down -- I guilt-tripped him. I guilt-tripped a toddler. Is there some special place in hell for mommies like me?

So here's the deal. Kellan doesn't like soup. I had this in mind as I was concocting some Veggie Lentil Soup this afternoon. (It was delicious, by the way! The secret? A pinch of curry!! Wow, was it good.) But while the soup was cooking, we spent a little time in Kellan's kitchen, where we made "soup" together. Hee hee hee... I thought to myself. He's gonna be so infatuated with soup tonight since he "made" some today...he's totally going to eat his dinner.

When the dinner hour arrived, he dove right into the soup. Unfortunately, it was a little too hot and he spit it out immediately. Shoot! I would have checked it, but Michael plopped it down on his tray before the hotness level was fully examined. From there, he moved on to a pile of whipped cauliflower. That went really well. He asked for seconds.

Then he noticed the rye bread we were eating with cream cheese and chives. He asked for some, and I thought, what the heck. He won't like rye bread. But he did, and ate the crap out of it.

At that point, as he was cramming bread into his mouth, I figured I better redirect him back to the cooled soup. I got an immediate and insistent "no." 

A few minutes later, I tried again and heard: "No, Mommy."

Then I started reasoning with him. Genius, right? Reasoning with a 23 month old. Seriously. I am the picture of parenting expertise. 

Me: Kellan, remember when we made soup in your kitchen today?

Kellan: Huh. (Which means yes. We need to break him of this habit.)

Me: Remember when you gave me lots of tastes of your soup?

Kellan: Huh.

Me: Well, I would really like it if you have a little taste of my soup.

Kellan: No.

Most parents, I think, would have realized the fruitlessness of the argument at this point. But I persisted.

Me: I worked so hard on my soup tonight.

Kellan: (silence)

Me: Just like you worked hard on your soup. And yours was delicious.

Kellan: Huh.

Me: I'd like you to taste mine for me.

Kellan: No.

There was a little more back-and-forth at this point, but then I sat back down at the kitchen table, defeated. Michael said, "I think Mommy's pretty sad that you won't try her soup."

Again, I thought -- what the heck.

I started crying. Not real tears, of course, but I included plenty of sobs and gasping breaths.

Michael: Look! Mommy is crying. She is so sad you won't try her soup!

Me: WAAAHHH!!!!

Kellan: (stunned silence)

Michael: I think you better try some of this soup, Kellan. Mommy's pretty upset.

Me: (gasp gasp) WAAHHHHH!!!!

With my hands over my face for effect, I peeked through my fingers and saw a spoonful of soup enter Kellan's mouth. It was touch and go for a moment as to whether he would swallow it, but after a few more faked sobs on my part, he did!

Like I said people, this is a milestone. Whether it's a good one, I'm not sure. I'm telling myself that maybe I helped him learn a little empathy tonight? Maybe? 

But maybe I just taught him that Mommy cries when he won't eat something that's good for him. 

Whatever. It worked.