The Dancing Monkey

My choices are simple:  get a backbone, or dance like a monkey?  What would you choose?

Here's our morning routine:

Chase wants to eat for breakfast, "the yogurt thing at the PAC" (which is our old gym).  Okie doke.  So I pour some granola into the bottom of a bowl, throw some yogurt on top, add some slices of whatever fruit we have (damn-it, I didn't grocery shop ... if I pick out the dried strawberries from a box of cereal, does that count?).  Ta-da!  The yogurt thing.

But then, he didn't want it mixed and stirred.  Shit.  Now I've done it.  The whining and tears ensue.  

What would you choose:  Backbone, or dance like a monkey?

I chose to dance.  So I ate the damn yogurt thing, and started over, this time not mixing it.

Oh, but I forgot, he doesn't like his juice cold, or his yogurt, or his freakin' ice cream.  Uh-huh.  So I warmed a bit of apple juice in the microwave, and added it to his mixture, thus making it about room temperature.  

I know, a f*ing dancing monkey.

But that's just the first kid.  At breakfast.

And so it goes...

Tatum wants a turkey wrap, for breakfast, with mayonnaise and tomatoes.  And she wants orange juice, without pulp, and a bowl of cereal.

Then there are lunches.

I pack two different lunches.  Most twins compare number of crackers and sizes of fruit to make sure their tortured parent makes them exactly equal, not mine.  

He wants yogurt.

She wants cheese.

He wants almond butter and jelly.

She wants turkey.

He likes apple sauce.

She doesn't.

He wants Hawaiian bread.

She wants salad.

He wants a muffin.

She wants that thing that Samantha had in her lunch box.  You know, the little balls, that are different colors, that are in a little bag, that are purple and pink (?).

What would you choose:  Backbone, or dance like a monkey?

And on and on we play the game.  Don't even get me started on dinner.  Remember the dinosaur nuggets?  And I know, I know, just make one meal.  If they're hungry enough, they'll eat it.  It worked for you, right?  Yeah, shut up.  

Maybe I just like being a pathetic dancing monkey.  Just think at the extra calories I'm burning.