So we have been having these screaming tantrums (yes, both of us) when it comes time for his three daily feedings and they usually end up with me covered in a lot of pureed food while Sam sits there eating a lot of Cheerios. After having a leftover BBQ chicken breast from last night's dinner, I decided to cut it up into tiny, little, OCD-like pieces and give it to Sam for lunch today.
Hm. So far, so good.
What is this?
It's barbeque chicken and you're going to love it.
Yeah Mom, I'm not so sure.
It takes my snaggleteeth a lot longer to chew this up than it does my Cheerios!
Oh look, a bird!
Focus Sammy. Lunch shouldn't last three hours.
I knew that giving you a seat with a view was a mistake. Remember, if you eat some more chicken, you can have some.... Cheerios!
But I don't WANNA eat any more chicken!
I need CHEERIOS. NOW.
You won't get anything pitching a fit like that.
Nope. That's still considered a fit. Just a more silent one, which I appreciate.
I just had a rare siting of Sammy No-Neck's neck! OMG!
Huh? Where? I didn't see it.
Strange. Hey, maybe you should try another piece of chicken. You know what they say, the eighteenth time is a charm.
Ok Mama.
It feels kinda funny. Not like Cheerios.
I know, baby. It's better than Cheerios. Try a bite.
Ok. Here goes nothing.
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH
Sammy, say something! All of this chewing and judging Top Chef-style is killing me!
Oh I like it, Mama. I like it a lot. But can I have some Cheerios now?
<sigh> Ok. I guess. You did throw a lot of chicken on the floor. And down your pants. And a few pieces made it into your chomper.
Mom! I'm done! Get me out of here! Spending two hours on lunch is ENOUGH!
And for all of you who I know are just DYING to get your hands on that chicken recipe, well, here it is:
Pour the BBQ sauce of your choice over some chicken breasts. Cook at 350 for 45 minutes. Voila. Dinner.
