Last night I made risotto for dinner.
Wesley asked, “What’s dinner?” and I said, “Risotto and fruit and sliced vegetables.”
He said, “I’m not eating that.”
I said, “Well, you’ll have to take a tasting bite if you want anything else, but that’s up to you.”
He stomped his feet furiously, stormed out to the porch, and jumped around angrily, repeating “I’m not eating that! I’m not eating that! I want dinner but I won’t eat that!”
This went on for about five minutes. Sometimes he came over to the door to stomp directly at me.
Then he wandered off.
About five minutes after that, he came up to the door again and said, “Mama?”
“Yes, Wesley?”
“What’s risotto?”