Jif-tastic

They say that if you hear something 10,000 times it becomes a truth.

Either we told Big Brother he has liked/will like peanut butter 10,000 times, or we were visited by the patron saint of Jif on Sunday (twice).

They say "Choosy Moms choose Jif" (R).

I say, "Move over Mikey. 5 year olds who eat fewer foods than there are letters in J-I-F choose Jif." Now that's saying something.

Big Brother had very brief periods where he'd eat peanut butter (like twice) and then go over a year without touching it again.

It started like any other Sunday, with Big Brother having an absolute melt-down tantrum about not wanting to go to the first day of Sunday school (in the same building with pretty much the same kids he went to pre-K with last year). It was bad enough that he had to be held by the teacher, kicking and screaming, as we walked out.

(Mom-E left pretty much convinced that our picture is now hanging on the wall in the Sunday School building, amongst the other blacklisted families who have a restraining order are gently ushered out from the building if they try to enter.)

(We also have one of those pictures at the local Chili's. But that's a story for another time.)

Of course, Big Brother apparently had just a wonderful time at Sunday School and did not require a white coat was pleasant and cooperative after we left.

So, I decided to use this against him.

About 4:30 pm (3 hours after lunch), Big Brother said "I'm hungry".

We first went through the obligatory, "if you ate some protein, your tummy would be happier longer."

(Amazingly, this did not elicit an "I know everything.")

Being unrelenting, I sat down with Big Brother on the steps and we had a little Jif-to-Jif heart-to-heart.

"Big Brother, Mom-E and I would never encourage you to do or eat something that was bad or yucky. We told you that you'd have a good time at Sunday School and you did. We've told you that there is peanut butter in the peanut butter granola bars you eat every day. TRUST ME. YOU WILL LIKE PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS. THEY WILL MAKE YOUR TUMMY FEEL GOOD. THEY WANT TO GO TO THE PARTY IN YOUR TUMMY."

And then I sweetened the peanut butter deal with, "And if you eat one--a whole one--you can have an extra 15 minutes of computer time."

(Computer time:Big Brother = Moths:Flame)

If we didn't restrict his access, the kid would play on the computer until he seized.

And then Saint Jif must've showed up because Big Brother decided he was going to eat peanut butter crackers.

And not just eat one, but make them the new staple of his diet.

Over the next 90 minutes, he proceeded to down a total of 6 Ritz PB cracker sandwiches (i.e., 12 Ritz crackers). He specifically requested PB crackers for dinner AND his lunch on Monday.

The best part is that whatever Big Brother does, Little Brother wants to do, too.

Consistent with his online name and stature, Little Brother opted to eat Ritz Bitz sandwiches instead, but he must've polished off 5 dozen or so, as if he'd started training for competitive eating.

When I packed Big Brother's lunch, I had this looming feeling that the world is going to end, because it actually looked like a "real" lunch--PB crackers, pretzels, yogurt, fruit, veggies, and a drink.

In the meantime, we're going to eat lots and lots of PB crackers, because it might be another year before he decides to eat them again.

But for this moment, this glorious day, it looks like he will not be taking his prom date to Granola Bar Hut.

Instead, they will go to Target to pick up some PB Crackers.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E