Vegetable miracle

It's entirely possible that Lyla is urinating on the big-girl potty in this picture. We'll give her partial credit.

I did end up breaking up with daycare on Monday. The conversation didn't have as much fanfare as I hoped it would. There was no gnashing of teeth or hasty offer to lower tuition. Nevertheless, I'm sure they called an emergency all-staff meeting early the next morning and had grief counselors on hand. Hopefully someone brought donuts.

In other news, I made a chicken stir-fry and afterward added extra carrots, corn, and peas to Lyla's portion. It went like this:

"Lyla, what does a chicken say?"

"Buck buck buck buck."

"Do you want to eat some chicken?"

Vigorous head nodding. Forkful of chicken. Enthusiastic chewing.

"More."

I hid a pea and a corn kernel on this forkful.

"More."

Now a smaller chicken piece with a carrot and two peas.

"More."

Now three corn kernels, two peas, one bit of carrot, one bit of yellow pepper, and no chicken.

"Here's more chicken," I lied (because, as I mentioned before, parents lie to their kids constantly).

Everything moved in slow motion. The vegetables entered the mouth. She blinked. I did not breathe. She blinked again. Then she began to chew. An eternity later, she swallowed as the theme from Chariots of Fire began to play in my mind.