Last weekend, Karen fixed dinner, including sweet potatoes. We put a small amount on Dyson’s plate and insisted that he try it. (I don’t like sweet potatoes myself, which is why Dyson hadn’t tried it before. Well, at least not that he could remember.)

He started getting pissy about trying it. Kel told him to open wide and started putting a piece in his mouth. He clamped down without getting any. She tried again, with sterner commands, and he managed to get a tiny piece in his mouth. And then SPIT it out.

Absolutely unacceptable. So I got out of my seat and told Dyson, quite firmly, to come with me and started walking out of the dining room.

He reluctantly got out of his chair and said, with an obvious hint of dread, "Oh no. This can’t be good."

Luckily he was out of the room before everyone started laughing. As he was got closer to me, he asked, "What are you going to do to me?"

After giving a little swat to his butt and lecturing him on being polite to anyone that goes to all the trouble to make dinner for him, I insisted that he eat a larger helping as punishment. Once we got back into the dining room, he found that he did, in fact, like sweet potatoes quite a lot, and had no problem eating all that I gave him.

Sigh. Could’ve saved us both a lot of trouble by just taking that first bite…

We have a new catch phrase around the house now…