seriously child, act civilized.

i'm outnumbered here. t2 doesn't know what 'please don't feed the dog at the table' means even though i've said it a million times. wolly has too much labrador garbageretriever in him to ignore the baby's giving and naive spirit.
truly, wolly knows better. i know he knows because when i scold him for begging for and eventually taking t2's cracker OUT OF HIS HAND, he tucks his tail and heads for his bed.
now i'll stand for a lot. torn magazines, toys in every direction, a neon elmo toy that has sound effects in a language i don't understand. but i won't have a kid with bad manners. it's one of the very few things in parenthood that i actually have control of so no way am i giving it up.
so until 'please don't feed the dog at the table' has meaning, wolly gets shut out.
he hates this. he sits behind the door and wails.
CCCOOOOMMMEEE OOONNN, he says. THIS IS SO NOT MY FAULT. I'm a D-O-G. HE'S A PERSON. (let it be noted, however, that i'm far more advanced in most areas. i mean, i could walk 5 minutes after i was born. hello?).
once again, the pooch gets screwed.
my dear friend katie sent me an early birthday gift last week - the magic bullet. not that kind of magic bullet, she winks. this magic bullet.
it's good for all kinds of quick whip ups, not the least of which is blended food to feed to the muncher.
i decided to give it a whirl tonight. only, i forgot that i'm not really cooking anything while tayloe is gone because i cannot take care of the baby and get my freelance work done and play with the dog and do the laundry and be little Miss Molly Maid and nurse my 587th cold AND be a gourmet cook for one-person. so it's salads and lean cuisines for me.
now i've pretty much fed t2 everything except 'banned' foods, but i'm not going to blend a frozen dinner. that's the kind of thing that'll really screw up a good game of 'i never.'
that left salad.
so i chunked some veggies, threw in some lettuce and added a little water. volia! a salad slurpee. move it, rachael ray.
we sat down to eat, me with my meal and t2 with his sweet potatoes and water salad and sippy cup of formula.
sweet potatoes. good.
sippy cup. good. milk. good.
next, a bite of the salad slush. you'd of thought i fed the kid puke.
OMG, MMMMMOOOMMM? G-R-O-S-S. phwey.
since we're working on manners, i told him it wasn't polite to make a nasty face at the cook of his meals because blending salad is hard work and hard work should always be appreciated. ESPECIALLY when the person working hard is your mother.
more sweet potatoes. more milk. and quick quick quick, another bite of the amazing, wonderful, delicious, SALAD SLURPEE!!!!
AAACCCCKKK. spit, spit, spit.
no spitting at the table, son.
more milk, more sweet potatoes, a few nibbles on a cracker. and and and, here it comes, mmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm salad slush!!!
BLEH. belch. NO salad slush. chug, chug, chug sippy cup of milk. sippy cup, save me. help sippy cup. protect me from this crazy person who is my mother.