YES! YES! YES!
Aiden has all the delaying tactics in world to not come when it is mealtime. He has to go to the bathroom, he wants to get one toy, Penguinito (yes, that's what he calls his little penguins) is all alone upstairs, McQueen wants to come to the table. This guy is even better than I ever was at making up excuses and, um, let's just say extending the truth. Then there are days when he doesn't even bother with reasoning. He'll just ignore me, the food and everyone else, and do what ever the hell wants to.
He was driving nuts and I was ready to pull my hair out so I made a new rule. Meals last exactly 20 minutes. After calling them to lunch or dinner, I let them know that the meal would be served for the next 20 minutes. I even put my mobile alarm on, the iPhone the one thing they cannot dispute when it comes to time. Despite all this scheming and planning Aiden always made it to the table before those 20 minutes were over. He'd run to his chair two minutes before the alarm went off. Two frigging minutes! When the alarm would go, he'd look at me with that up-yours-you-evil-manipulative-conniving-bitch-mama look.
But yesterday the Gods were good to me. I finally won. He was so late everything was cleared by the time he got to the table. He wailed when he realized that I wasn't exaggerating when I said the meal would be over. So he screamed and sobbed, quivered his lips, threw his head in his hands and threw himself on the sofa. HA! A toddler's loss is mother's victory. That's what I was thinking but I said something more along the lines of lunch is over, it's now nap time. Then he looked up and gave me the most pitiful, sad look and I looked back at him with that shove-it-you-evil-manipulative-conniving-little-devil look.
Ah, motherhood is sweet.