I'd be more understanding if it was some strange, new dish that I was trying, but this is the same sandwich that he has been eating every day for months. I am not putting up with this nonsense from him. He asked for it, he's going to eat it.
He came running back over to where I am sitting, screaming. I picked him up and put him back. He was crying so hard that I thought he might throw up. Now he's calm and keeps calling out, "Mommy!" and then telling me I am hurting his feelings. Now it's, "Mommy, I am talking to you."
Isn't this supposed to get easier at some point.
ETA: When he finally calmed down I walked over and sat next to him. I explained again that we don't waste food and that I will not tolerate temper tantrums from such a big boy, that if he's screaming at me I won't hear him, I won't look at him, it will be like he's invisible. I promised that if he talked to me with respect, that I would talk to him the same way. Then I asked what I could do to make him want the sandwich. He asked me to cut the crusts off. I did and he ate it.
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Or maybe I'm getting confused with the aftermath of the Anita Blake/Edward Cullen deathmatch. Well, whatever. Either a sparkle vampire was put out of his misery or else it was death by sandwich. My life is full of stuff like that.