Will work for Jamie beer

The best way to get a kid to eat something is to give them the impression they can't have it. Case in point: Jamie and Charlie both scarf down miso soup like it's some sort of treat. That's right, a guilty snack of fermented bean paste, diced tofu and seaweed strips. Yum.

But it's not because they actually like miso soup, or cheesy broccoli soup, or creamy kale-potato-leek soup (are you noticing a soup theme here?). It's only because I have a minor soup addiction (I swear I could stop if I wanted to), and my kids are convinced that anything I'm eating must be elixir of the gods or something. Seriously, I feel like I will be sharing my meals for the rest of my life. I remember doing this to my mom (she always handled it with grace and patience). Her sandwich always looked better... tastier or something. This is probably why most of her children love weird things like sardines, okra and artichokes (because those were her guilty pleasures).

As much as I love being followed around everywhere by a couple of two legged creatures and one four legged one, it does have its problems when they want to have something of mine they can't have... like chocolate for the furry-four pawed one and something of the more alcoholic variety for the wispy blond haired ones. I'm pretty at peace with Christian liberty and moderation, but get bogged down as to how it relates to parenting and childraising. One day the news will share research that shows children raised in homes with moderate consumption have the lowest rate of alcoholism. (This pretty much falls in line with my own anecdotal observations). Then the next day I will read something that claims a mere taste will doom your children to addiction forever.
So which is it? Besides apparently not letting them have beer in their sippy cups (drat).
Also, rubbing whiskey on their teething gums is a big fat OUT, along with booster seats (how dare you put your child in anything less than a five point harness...read the research people!) and jarred babyfood (you don't even want to know what sort of nutrition-less scam that turned out to be).

And that leaves me juggling all kinds of worse case scenarios. Will they get malaria if they play in the mud? Or instead commit suicide because I never let the play outside? (vitamin D you know)

Am I killing them more with the poisoned gerber food that will give them cancer by 16 or the homemade spinach babyfood that might be laced with e.coli ?

Will I guarantee they become closet alcoholics if I throw all the wine down the drain and become a strict baptist? Or is going the other way worse?

We thought we brilliantly resolved the issue by letting Jamie have his own type of beer: Rootbeer or Sprite. It's perfect because it even allows him to learn self control and moderation at an early age.

Sometimes it backfires though when we're in the grocery store and he's hollering "Beer mom! I need Jamie-beer!"

In other news, tried my hand at the self timer again the other night. Really not a fan of the timer, but it does allow for some fun (read: interesting) family times.