Yogurt. My toddler’s favorite.
How not to eat your yogurt:
Do not say, “I want yogurt. Mama, I want yogurt!” very loudly, while pulling on your mama’s sleeve and pant leg, while she’s trying to put your brother down for his nap. Even the dynamic duo of sound machine and humidifier will not drown out your pleadings.
Do not take your mama’s face in your hands and say, “Did you hear me? I said, YOGURT.”
When you are finally (5 minutes after first request) given a bowl with a small amount of yogurt in it, go sit at the table. Do not argue about eating something messy and gloopy in the living room, on the couch, or on the carpeted floor. It’s dirty enough, thanks.
Do not use your teeth to scrape the yogurt off your spoon! Do not! It is possibly the most irritating sound ever, and it makes your mama want to throw the yogurt out the window, and never buy it again. Ever ever ever ever.
When mama says not to use your teeth, it is not necessary to say, “Like this? With my lips?” over and over again, while inexplicably sucking your lips into your mouth. Sure, whatever, just no teeth.
Then, the sound of teeth on metal.
Do not eat your two spoonfuls of yogurt so slowly that it seems it will literally never end. Maybe you are just eating the spoon after all. Maybe that explains all the scraping noises. Such a small amount of yogurt, yet there it is, in your hair, on the tip of your nose, and trailing a sticky path down the front of your sweater, which leads to this: “MAMA! I need a napkin! It’s in my HAIR!”
If I can just get through my toddler eating yogurt without getting angry, or violently expelling the yogurt from the house, then I’ll really have gotten somewhere on my spiritual journey. I won’t have to mention the words “toddler” and “yogurt” during confession (well, at least the yogurt part), which will be a relief. Surely there are bigger fish to fry, and yet the word “yogurt” makes me need to go to an internal place of prayer and beg for all the help I can get.
