It all started with a ride in the car. While John and I were riding home in the car this afternoon, he asked me repeatedly if he could watch "Kipper the Dog" on Netflix when we get home. I'm a little conflicted on this subject. While I desperately appreciate how Kipper holds John's undivided attention for a solid 45-60 minutes, I am also trying to limit John's daily screen time to an hour or less. He learns a lot of new words from watching shows and movies on Netflix, but I would rather have him running around the yard like the little mini-marathoner he's turning out to be.
So anyway, I jokingly replied that I would let him watch Kipper if he ate some carrots when we got home. I chuckled a little to myself (after all, I am so very funny) and went on my merry way. When we got home, and battled through the assault of excitedly licky dogs at the door, John marched straight into the kitchen and announced that he wanted some carrots.
"I'm sorry, you what?"
Pointing at the refrigerator. "I want some carrots, Mommy. Then I'mma go watch KIPPER!"
To my surprise (and elation), he totally did! He ate one WHOLE baby carrot straight out of the container. I asked him if he wanted another, keeping my fingers and my toes crossed as hard as they would go, but he turned me down. He then skipped (he literally skipped) into the living room, crawled on to the couch with his bear, and asked if he could watch Kipper. He even said, "Please?"
How could I turn that down? I can't start breaking my promises, so I let him watch 30 minutes of Kipper while I finished making dinner. I had high hopes that he would eat more carrots at dinner since he so happily ate the first one, but I was soon to be disappointed. He ate one tiny piece of one and then turned his nose up at the rest. I was too worn out to push him tonight, so I just let him eat the rest of the food on his plate. Oh well.
And may the peace of the Lord be always with you.