dinnertime battles

We were having a nice, albeit late, Shabbat dinner tonight (the lamb chops took twice the amount of time they usually take to cook, probably because the meat was cut so thickly) when Rachel started slowing things down, as she usually does. She tried to tell funny stories, interrupt us once or twice, and generally just didn't get down to business and eat, even though she claimed she loved the lamb.

It was when she dropped her carrot that Drew got really mad. "No dessert," he said sternly, explaining that she had to stop fooling around and eat. She started sobbing, but she did being chewing on her carrots. Then she got up and gave us both hugs, but we weren't as warm with her as we usually are. I was mentally and physically exhausted (didn't get much sleep last night worrying about my car), and Drew was exasperated.

We put her to bed as quickly as possible (and no, we didn't give in on dessert) and Drew was still so mad that he moved a clock Mom and Dad brought me from Europe years ago, the one that hangs near the kitchen counter, to the wall nearest Rachel. He is determined to teach her how to tell time, so she understands what we mean when he tells her it's late and she needs to finish eating. Now.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that kids don't usually tell time until they're 6 or so.

I hate it when Shabbat is ruined, but Drew eats breakfast AND dinner with Rachel and sees first-hand how difficult it is to get her to focus on finishing her food. She's pretty good when it's just us, but that's because I'm constantly pointing at her plate and saying, "Eat. Eat. Less talking, more eating." It does get to be wearing after a while. I hope she grows out of it, and quickly.