fanny
He is not eating. AGAIN. See, I basically write my every post stressing his eating habits.
I think he has proven for the first time in human history that food is not required to sustain life. Last week he refused to eat anything for three days. THREE DAYS! 72 HOURS! 72! That’s the exact number of days he has shaved off my life. Well, I have to say he did eat a bite or two. But that didn’t happen without bloodshed all over the dining table. And I believe he must have used his willpower to multiply the energy those few bites gave him, and utilized it to throw volcanic tantrums and cry an ocean all over those three days. He even took a huge poop one evening before he went to bed. I told myself if he didn’t wake up the next morning dying, I gave up feeding him at all, because I am sure he will make his next birthday without eating anyway.
Anxiety attacked me so hard prior to every meal. We battled so ravenously that at some point I were helplessly gasping air as he zipped his damn lips so tight even at gunpoint. He would look out the windows letting his head fall against the back of the chair with a thud like someone had just worked 24/7 being MADDENINGLY STUBBORN.
During another frustrating lunch, after he took two unwilling bites of that cold pizza that had been sitting on his plate for over an hour, he became dazed and started to show signs of fatigue. Maybe it hit his nap time or he was simply simply wore out by the meal war. I didn’t bring up the nap though because I thought he would probably go mad again and assure me that WHAT? TIRED? NO WAY! LOOK HOW WIDE AWAKE AND FIERY I AM.
Instead he looked up at me with giant round tears in his eyes and said, “I want to sleep.” I wiped his hands and mouth, took him to his room, before I even asked which song he’d like me to sing to him, he was ready to lie down on his bed. Within a minute I left his room and closed the door, I could slightly hear his snore.
For how many times his father and I had a hard time putting him to nap without a drama, plus the fire he puts on the dining table every day, I can’t stress enough how forgiving I am to him now. Because not only he WANTS TO TAKE A NAP, but he also ASKS FOR IT.