In the dinnertime battles, I capitulated on Tuesday. My Patient Husband had to attend a conference that extended into the evening, and the kids disliked the menu I had planned.
“Suggest something else,” I said. It turned out, they all wanted pasta. I agreed on condition that they would help watch the baby while I cooked.
It used to be that on husband-free nights, we ate foods the kids liked but he didn’t. Especially when he had his previous job, which required a lot of travel, the kids got used to a diet of shao mai and other treats that caused hesitant looks from my Patient Husband. He’d eat the stuff, but why force him when there were plenty of nights we could have them in his absence?
But we’ve gotten out of the habit, so that night, it was spaghetti.
After spaghetti, my son said, “What vegetable are we having?” and I said, “None.”
A parade was summarily thrown. Yay Mom, no cooking hated vegetables!
Kiddo#1 said, “Don’t you always say tomato sauce is a vegetable?”
I replied, “Yeah, but your father isn’t buying it.”
And in that moment, Kiddo#2 had a revelation.
“You and Dad disagree on things?”
She’d made it to age eight before realizing unanimity isn’t a necessary condition of marriage and parenting.