For Miles’s latest strategy in his ongoing quest to avoid eating his dinner, having determined that whining and screaming aren’t means to his preferred end, he’s opting for a surplus of enthusiasm and kindness.
“Oh this so yummy you gotta try it,” he’ll say, sans punctuation and with no room to breathe, much less for the mark to object. “Here.” He’ll then shove a forkful of whatever the food is into your face. If your reply (as is often the case for me, but especially for the non-meat-eating Jaclyn) is to say, “I’m good,” he then tries to FORCE the food into your mouth, his way of saying, “No, I insist.”
He seems to be hoping everything happens so quickly that he can get away with it before we can realize what his game is. Bonus points for appearing gracious. After all, he is only trying to share, RIGHT?
My response depends on how forceful he’s being. When he’s trying to cram a hunk of chicken or a pepperoni into Jaclyn’s mouth, we get pretty emphatic that “no means no.” Sometimes, however, we’ll relent, with terms along the lines of, “I’ll try it, but you have to eat all the rest yourself.” It’s like a game of Dinnertime Chess.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 