So, this has been a week! Not so much in the sense of the amount of work to be done, but because of the nature of it. Let's just say that I have seen a lot of brokenness this week, as well as a lot of sorrow.

To cheer myself up a bit, I decided to take A. to meet some of our friends at a bar-b-que place about 40 minutes from our house. We left right after I picked him up from school, and arrived just as our friends were bringing the food to the table.

Now A. has become slightly anxious about meeting "new" people (which could be people he already knows but doesn't see on a daily basis), so he was somewhat suspicious of his "new" friends even though we have seen them recently. I should have known that would set the stage for an interesting dinner!

(Remember, he's 19 months old)

He was ok as long as we kept handing him bread or giving him extra helpings of creamed corn (which is like crack cocaine for me - I could not stop eating it...). Then there was the Milk Incident.

(Editors note, I should have known better.)

A. has learned how to say two-word sentences recently, his most adorable is "More, please" which he not only says but also does the sign language for. It is heartwarming to see our firstborn learn to rub his chest for "please" and look at you with his big blue eyes. So, wanting to show off his new found vocabulary (and this is where I get the Bad Mommy award), I poured him some milk in his glass, gave it to him (and this is where it would be italics or bold or underlined if I knew how to do that), then took it back and Asked Him To Say Please.

I know, I'm shaking my head in shame as I write this.

He began to melt down. First, a bit of a whimper then a full-body wale ensued and I was stuck. Give him back the milk and make him think that the way to get what he wants is to cry and make a scene? Or, keep the milk and take a screaming 38 pound child (I know, he's the size of a three year old) to the car, knowing I was the cause of this battle of wills?

I gave him back the milk. At that point he still cried because he was so upset he couldn't figure out what to do. We left the restaurant in shame, him hugging his cup of milk so tightly that he wouldn't even take my hand to walk to the car.

The good news, though, is that this morning he asked for applejuice (which we are very excited he has learned to say) and while I was pouring it I said, "Say please." Ready for him to dig his heals in I was pleasantly surprised to hear:

Please please please please please as he rubbed his little chest and tummy.

That was a close one.