Chicken nuggets and Cheerios

So this is the beginning of the 'terrible two's'? A proclamation of independence? The testing? The waring away of my already thin layer of patience with food issues? Three nights ago we had a mommy vs. toddler stand-off over some chicken nuggets. There was a slushie involved...a thawing slushie which I told him without thinking he could have when he finished his 3 chicken nuggets. That one statement led to that darn thing they call follow-through. It's something I've always judged other parents for not practicing and now it's here staring me in the face and I'll be darned if I turn into one of "those" parents. So, for one hour, 49 minutes I sat across the island from him and his two pieces of half-eaten nuggets and stood my ground. It was a battle of the wills suited for the record books...or at least a minute or so of home video...which I have. There was whining, screaming, crying, sign language and cute little head-tilts and words to get mommy to crack. I almost cracked. I did crack up more than a few times and had to hide my face in my arms. This kid is a professional charmer and knows just how to get his mommy to soften up. I explained to him that I wanted him to have his slushie. I wanted him to eat his chicken nuggets so I could give him his slushie and we could snuggle up on the couch for a while or play on the floor before he went to bed - but he got a will of steel from one of us. Mostly his daddy, in my opinion, but I will admit I can be pretty, uh, strong-willed myself. It was 10 to 9 before he finally took that last bite - ok, so I shoved it in his mouth, but he chewed it up and swallowed it with a smile and was rewarded with his orange (now totally melted) slushie. After two sips the coveted treat ended up down the front of his white ketchup stained t-shirt, jeans, chair and all over the floor. Off to bed he went with a full tummy and a big mess for mommy to clean up. Neither of us won that battle. I realize I got the result I asked for and so did he, but spending 2 hours sitting across the table from my kid while he's being held hostage in a high chair and I'm being held hostage on a bar stool is not my idea of 'winning'.
The next night was a different story, though, and I'm hoping that my tactics had some sort of an effect on his dinner etiquette. At the advice of my more experienced and equally patient as me cousin, I tried her timer and wooden spoon method. I'm still not sure if I can actually use a spoon to make meal-time into a eat-it-or-beat-it session, but something worked! He ate most of it and last night we had the same results. Granted, we had scrambled eggs and frozen peas last night, but hey, whatever works.
For breakfast this morning at his request, he had a box of Cheerios. No, two boxes of Cheerios. One box of Honey Nut and one box of plain. He carried them around and did a good job for a little while...and then it was over. The boxes started getting stacked, tipped, thrown at the dog, etc. So, I took them away and put a handful in a bowl. This made him mad and as soon as I turned my back he threw them all over the floor. Asking him to help mommy pick them up only resulted in more "no!"'s and throwing of Cheerios and of course eventually some of that adorable charm...which resulted in a little crib time. The Cheerios went in the trash and there will be nothing until 10:00 and the choice at that time is an orange or a banana. He's currently either pulling at my hand or rolling around on the floor trying everything he can to get his way. "Emmo", "Choo-Choo", "Why", "oanch", "appow", "may-may"...anything besides what is going on right now in order to regain control. This is why I'm writing and ignoring. I WILL get through the next 33 minutes until snack time.
Follow through. Not fun. Teaching. Necessary. But not fun. At all.