Situation Sippy Cup

Ah, what we women won't do to make the men (in this case, little boys) in our lives happy! After my discussion about Lincoln and his spoons, my friend, Allison pointed out to me that men will just sit back and enjoy watching us scurry around trying to make them happy. Even at the tender age of two, Lincoln is already enjoying his power over the woman in his life. Enter the Sippy Cup Situation.

Out of the blue, Lincoln decided that he no longer wanted to drink from a sippy cup. He now wants a real cup just like mommy. The first time this happened we were at the food court eating a Chick-Fil-A kid's meal which comes with an apple juice box. The options were: a. squeeze the juice from the little hole made by the tiny straw into Lincoln's sippy cup, or b. let him try the straw (something he had never achieved before). But, wait, I didn't have a sippy cup because my dumb ass never packs everything I might possibly need while entertaining two small children. So, I asked for a small cup and decided to squeeze the apple juice into the cup and just see what would happen. Wait! You mean, I am the cause of the Sippy Cup Situation? Lincoln did surprisingly well for his first time with a big boy cup...his shirt was just mildly soaked due to lack of bib and spare shirt (again, my fault).

Fast forward to last week (a few days after the food court fiasco). Lincoln was sitting in his high chair in front of his 57th Veggie Tales of the morning (my lack of strength in saying NO to TV will be the subject of another blog) and mommy was scurrying around getting him his milk and two cookies (not the sugar-filled ones, but the gross Gerber banana ones). I know what you are thinking - you let him eat cookies for breakfast??? Yes, how else can I get him to drink his milk? Anyway, so I got Lincoln his sippy cup and he threw it back at me and said "PIPS". Well, "pips" usually means potato chips, but in this case he meant he wanted to take a "sip" without the top on. After several weak attempts to tell him no, he began adamantly demanding "help top" over and over again. I must have been out of my mind because the next thing I knew I was taking the top off and allowing him to drink it sans protective top. Thinking the situation was solved, I went to sit down on the couch to feed the baby. Nope! Now Lincoln demanded "pup" which means "cup". He did not want the sippy cup at all.

Off to the kitchen I went. This time I came back with a new cool neon green sippy cup with a pop-up straw. "Ooh, look at this," I tried to sell Lincoln. Nope! He was not buying it. "No, pup!" Mommy went back into the kitchen, poured the milk into yet another type of cup. This time I tried a little plastic kiddie cup that came with his set of spoons and bowls. I thought he would love this idea. Nope! Wrong again. Back to the kitchen. Get a back bone, I tried to tell myself. In a bold move I decided to pour the milk back into the original sippy cup with the top ON and make a statement. Yeah, right. "NO, NO, NO," Lincoln screamed, spoons flying everywhere. Ugh! Fine! Back to the kitchen I went. I poured the damn milk from the sippy cup into a regular grown-up cup and slammed it down on his tray. Can you guess what happened next? He spilled the entire cup down the front of his shirt and all over his tray soaking the spoons and cookies. Great! Now my poor second child, who had been waiting ever so patiently, had to wait yet again while I took Lincoln upstairs to get new clothes.

After all was said and done, my husband (the sleeping beast of the east), finally came down the stairs yawning after his 8 hour sleep (I forgot to mention that this whole morning milk drama happened after I had been up since about 4 a.m.). He handed Lincoln the original sippy cup. "Come on, pal. Time to go to daycare," he said as the little bastard (Lincoln) took the sippy cup from his daddy and drank! SON OF A .....!

This brings up a good point that I started to make in the beginning. Why did I rush around trying to make my little prince happy when my husband simply gave him a command and he followed it? My husband doesn't care about making him happy. My husband cares about teaching him a lesson, teaching him who is boss, and teaching him to suck it up and drink from the sippy cup regardless of the tantrums and tears that usually follow. I am all for having peace in the morning, and not starting a battle before Lincoln goes off to daycare for the day. What am I teaching him? That women, or at least THIS woman, will sacrifice her happiness to make him happy and cater to his every need. Somewhere in the middle there must be a compromise between my husband's drill sargent, hard-ass approach and my door mat catering service!

An update: Last night we tried giving Lincoln a little Dixie cup filled with a small amount of milk. He spilled the first cup all over the living room rug, to which Eric scolded, "why did you let him have the drink in the living room?" Then he spilled the second cup all over his high chair tray. In the end, he got a sippy cup which he wanted to bring to bed. Ugh! He knows we don't allow drinks in bed! Time to put on the boxing gloves. In this corner wearing a white wife beater onesie and weighing 25 pounds - Lincoln, the Mommy Crusher...and in this corner wearing a dirty old worn-out sweatshirt with spit-up stains and spaghetti sauce and weighing none of your dang beeswax...

Gotta go do diaper duty!