I am >< this close to banning yogurt from our lives forever.
It started innocently enough. My third son, Griffin, age 10, loves yogurt. Like enough to drink a Gogurt down in one go. It’s like watching someone chug milk out of a jug.
We were hungry one day at Disneyland and Griffin wasn’t a fan of the options at the place we were eating. I’m blessed to have four picky eaters, so mealtimes are fun rainbow bunny laughs 100% of the time. When I saw they had parfaits, I was like: I have found it! The solution for this meal!
This was shortsighted of me though. Because it solved that meal a little too well. Griffin loved this Disneyland parfait so much that it set off an obsession. We bought him one at McDonald’s, and it was now over, now that he knew he could get parfaits at locations spaced approximately every 15 miles (and not just one location more than 1000 miles away.) At this point, I was still ignorant to my fate and thought I was simply bringing joy and smiles to my moody preteen. I did not realize I was creating an obsession in my child that would spill into my life for WEEKS. WEEKS.
I am weary.
Griffin has asked in the weeks since we got home from Disney for the supplies to make parfaits. However, since we got home I haven’t done a big grocery store trip. I’ve only done panic shopping. Panic shopping is when I text David in a panic saying that we’re almost out of milk or eggs or bread and David texts me back that he’ll pick some up. Panic shopping does not include ingredients to make anything.
So, no ingredients for parfaits at this point, and two weeks ago, I take pity on him. Since we are running late for our first rehearsal for our new show, I stop to buy a McDonald’s parfait.
Do you see my mistake? I didn’t realize it at first either. But, if you do something with your kid on the first day of an activity, they might be inclined to think it’s part of that activity. Like a tradition. Or to use a word from the Right, an entitlement.
Now he is obsessed. Every rehearsal is about How I Did Not Buy Him A Parfait. He comes up to me, leans his head dejected on my arm, and groans, “Parfaaaaaait.” Like multiple times. He’s moody and when I ask what’s wrong, I get the same answer. “Parfaaaait.” The 20 minute drive to rehearsals is filled with his hope that I will stop for a parfait, although I have told him no every day the past two weeks and not given in once, and the drive home is the exact same. A parfait-longing fills the car.
I finally bought the stuff to make parfaits tonight, but fresh blueberries were $7 and strawberries were $5, and we are trying to save for Christmas. So, I got frozen berries. Which was the wrong choice. Griff declared the entire parfait “gross.” I don’t blame him too much, but can we please STOP HAVING OUR LIVES REVOLVE AROUND YOGURT?