Your Mouth is Empty . . .

You know all those things you never said that you'd say as a parent?  You're saying them now.  I know you are . . .

Sit down.
Stop talking.
Use your inside voice.
No running in the house.
No jumping on the furniture.
Don't cut your leg.
Your sister is not a trampoline.
Stop doing the Thomas whistle.
Your mouth is empty, put some food in it.

Wait, that last one wasn't me . . . Mike said that the other day.  Sammy doesn't eat very well.  He does eat, but he only likes to eat snacks.  Fruit snacks, goldfish, lucky charms, bananas, cheese . . . anything but dinner.  Dinner is a battle.  A battle that we unfortunately fight daily.

We threaten, we tell him no snacks, but still he doesn't like to eat.  We've resorted to calling food strange names.  Sammy likes hamburger meat, but he knows it by the nickname "Taco."  Hence, we have taco pizza, taco spaghetti, taco helper.  Some day, Sammy will be at a friend's house eating pizza and calling it taco.  Even foods that don't have "taco" on them are called taco. Perhaps we should change his name to Paco.

Ordinary broccoli becomes "dinosaur trees."  Carrots are "X-Ray vision sticks."  Hey, whatever works, right?  And when all else fails, and he won't quit talking, Mike resorts to, "Sammy, your mouth is empty - put some food in it."