Bananas.

it's frustrating when one or both of the girls refuses to eat their supper. I have to work really hard to maintain my cool. I barely ever succeed completely; I always get at least a bit upset.

But tonight when I caught Haven throwing pieces of pasta in the garbage can (I thought she was eating them - don't ask), I just had to laugh. She's just too smart; twenty-months old and totally outwitting me. Sigh.

My solution: let's all sit down together and watch Peter Pan and eat as many sliced bananas as your little belly can hold. At least I'll know your tummy is full before bed.

I snapped one photo of Haven's face gazing up at the wonder of Disney's interpretation of the J.M. Barrie classic and all was forgiven. I couldn't stop taking her picture; most of them were blurry (the living room was dim), but the combination of her enthralment and her cheeks stuffed full of bananas was irresistible.

And although this option was far preferable to having a meltdown, I can't help thinking that Haven just filed it away as a possible exit strategy the next time I set an undesirable meal on the table. In Haven's mind, sliced bananas trump just about any supper.