I did it. Yes. I did the unthinkable. The blasphemous. The biggest no-no in current parenting theory. I forced the boys to eat their porridge.
By forcing I mean they sat at the kitchen table all morning, I took away all their toys, I put them on time-out, I even spanked Sebastian. Then, I served Sebastian the same porridge for lunch. Yup. I admit it. I committed the very worst crime in the eternal food control battles with a pre-schoolers. I knew as my anger escalated that it was a losing battle. That a parent never wins. That legions of traumatized adults with food issues trace the source of their woes to that infamous meal, day, week, where their parents did not let them leave the table until they ate all their disgusting meal.
Alas, once again, I am humbled by the gargantuan task of parenting with patience, reason, love, nurturing, and wherewithal. I humbly ask the greater universe for forgiveness: for the cruelty I subjected Sebastian to yesterday, for the judgment I have dished out to all other parents, ever, for the merciless criticism of my own mother who blamed her outbursts on my crazy-driving-antics of childhood.