This morning, we had a big fit over Frosted Flakes. My dad is visiting, and when he comes up, he brings his own food because he exists only on processed flour, sugar, caffeine and nicotine. And no, he hasn't had a heart attack yet.
So this morning Lucy goes ape over "Granddad's tiger cereal," which Jason let her have one time when I wasn't looking. Well, this morning, I am looking. And she is not having any.
There is definitely a moment, during the crying and carrying on, where I am tempted to say, "Fine, have your bleeping tiger cereal! And here's some coffee and a cig, while you're at it!" Instead, I send her to her room for a timeout. When she emerges, sniffling, she has come up with a great compromise: tiger cereal is only for special occasions, like her birthday. I am not sure how we're gonna get five candles in a bowl of cereal, but okay.