dear little leah,
tonight we had a standoff at dinner.
voices weren't raised - we both kept our cool. thank goodness. i think we're both getting better at that.
in the end, i'm not really sure who won. you didn't eat, so one point for you. but you stayed at the table until i was good and ready to let you down. you did eventually swallow the three bites i ever-so-sweetly jammed into you rmouth - even after they sat stagnant in your cheeks for well over 10 minutes each. yuck.
you pursed your lips. you turned your head. you resorted to burying your face on the table. now that's what i call selective rett syndrome.
i know you were tired. and possibly you were bored? maybe you weren't feeling well. i'm 99% certain it wasn't the food. i know you love lasagna. and yet there we both sat. for 45 minutes. that's my idea of a friday night. um, no. not really.
how about no standoffs in the future? a little girl can't live on hollow bones forever. but either way, i love you.