Kolby Mondays: The Dictator

When I get home on Mondays these days, I look out for a pair of small shoes on the shoe rack as I unlock the door. A pair of small white school shoes belonging to Kolby.

On Monday, the shoes were there. The boy is in! He welcomed me with a cheeky expression along with a skip and a hop as usual. He was in the room with dad and mom, he told mom it's scary to be in the living room alone.

I sat down for dinner and asked how many bowls of soup he's had. The soup-guzzling boy said proudly that he's had four bowls of soup with rice. I'm pleased and I'm sure mom is. It's almost like every Monday, we stuff him with as much home cooked food as he could manage in an attempt to make his predominantly fast-food based diet a little more balanced.

But the boy is not yet done. As I sat down to have my dinner, Kolby climbed onto the chair next to mine so that he could land himself on my lap. He made himself very comfortable before starting his dictating.

"Gugu I want pork...I want egg...I want rice... I don't want corn...I want carrot with rice..."

I saw the egg was too big for him and bit off a part before feeding him. "It's too big for you," I said. "But my mouth is very big!" the small boy said.

He smelled like a baby that day and I told him so. He looked a little puzzled and then continued dictating what he should be fed. And finally he ended his evening of dictatorship by dictating the flavour of ice cream he should have and that he absolutely must have a second scoop!