Night of the Butter Eater

That's right, Harry Potter has the Death Eaters, which are pretty scary, but there ain't nothin' like a butter eater to really make your toes curl. Tonight we had to wash the butter dish, but bread and butter was an integral part of the menu (meat, root vegetables, bread and butter -- at least there was meat and no cabbage else we would be living in a dark Russian novel) so I put some butter on a plate. Elena regularly eats plain butter, but having it front and center on a plate, looking for all the world like the main course, must have been seen as a personal challenge. She ate pat after pat after pat straight and kept coming for more. I finally cut her off and said "only on bread" -- fine, two slices of brown bread down the hatch.

But beneath that buttery exterior (very buttery by the time she got done) is a core of the finest steel. Elena had been eating her beef stew and miraculously ate some potatoes (which she dislikes) from the first bowl (of four!) but out of the second bowl didn't want them and spit one out after trying it and gagging a little (she had let them get cold and kind of mushy). So I prepared to start clearing the table and went to take her bowl. Elena says "Lena eat tato". I offered her one, she rejected it. I went to take the bowl again. Elena said "Lena eat tato". I said "sweetie, you didn't want them" She said "Lena eat tato" so I offered her one with a "OK, last chance". Kid looks me right in the eye, scarfs the whole potato without flinching. I couldn't help laughing at that one.

So what worked up this big appetite? Well, turns out that Mommy's job isn't that hard after all, I could walk a mile in her shoes:


BACKWARDS!!!




OK, let's lace these darn things up the *RIGHT* way




And head to the Winkel for some bread!