Wednesday, July 1, 2015
When it's hard to say no to your kid
Max wants to eat out on weekends. As in: Every. Single. Meal. He would like to go to the diner for the breakfast and, actually, could we find a new one to try? He would like pasta and cheese for lunch at his favorite local pizza place. And for dinner, sushi!
Obviously, we're not endlessly eating out, but we have been going a lot more than we usually do. Or, at least, Dave and Max are because half the time Max prefers to go on some Daddy-Max eating adventure. (Dave is a master of eating adventures.)
Max has always enjoyed his food, but this restaurant obsession is fascinating to me. Because he used to hate trying new places to eat. If a place was the least bit crowded or had any sort of din, he'd dash out, screeching. For years, our local dining options were limited to this greasy spoon where Max would only sit at the table right next to the bathroom. The waitress knew to save it for us on Sunday nights.
And so, when his entire face lights up on Sunday morning because he'd like to go have chocolate-chip pancakes at his favorite dinner, PLEASE, it is hard to say "No." But then, we put our foot down for lunch and dinner. Well, at least lunch.
At times, it's hard to say turn down requests for any number of things that have a Max history. He wants to get a ball at the toy store? Well, sure, because I can remember when he had no interest in balls because he had such trouble holding them. He wants to go on another ride at the amusement park? Of course. Once upon a time, he was terrified of them. He wants to read a fifth book at bedtime? Awesome. He used to not care about reading at all—or be able to read, period.
Eating out gets a little more expensive, as I let him know.
"Max! Eating out costs money!" I'll remind him, and he'll go get his wallet and pull out a few dollars.
"Max, it costs more than that!" I'll explain, and he'll pull out a few more bucks.
One of these days we'll let him take his overstuffed wallet (he gets allowance) and pay for our meal (like, when we hit Boston Chicken). Although if he wants to take us out for a five-star meal, I'm not turning him down.
Posted by Ellen Seidman at 6:35 AM