We are not an orange juice kind of family. I know some people that love the stuff so much that they can’t start their morning without it, but that is not us. The only time we ever have orange juice in the house is when I was pregnant (and craved the stuff like it was crack cocaine) and when I’m making turkey in the crock pot.
Michael has almost no exposure to orange juice. I did offer it to him once when I had left over juice after making turkey, but that’s about it. I don’t even think he’s seen commercials for it because he mostly watches PBS kids. It’s possible that he’s seen some when we have adult TV on, but that normally means Andy has the remote...and Andy doesn’t watch commercials. Ever. Even when I threaten that I’ll be very angry if I miss part of my show.
So, last night I was pretty surprised when I heard Michael calling from the living room that he wanted orange juice. I still don’t know what started it. But, he made his request at the right time. I had just bought OJ for the first time in a year so I could make turkey. I smiled and told him that I’d be right back with some yummy orange juice.
I zipped into the kitchen and filled up a straw cup as fast as I could. I didn’t want to miss the window of opportunity. Toddlers are notoriously fickle when it comes to anything edible that may go in their mouths. (And amazingly open to putting anything that shouldn’t be eaten into their mouths. Little stinkers.) Thirty seconds later I handed him the orange juice that he was still yelling for.
He put the straw to his lips. Sucked in. Then shoved the cup right back at me.
“Michael are you sure you don’t want to try it again?”
“It’s icky poop juice.” He informed me while turning his back on me.
“But you just asked for it? What happened?”
He turned back to me and took the cup from my hand. He then said, “You drink it,” and shoved it into my face, hard enough that it almost went up my nose. I pushed it away, and he kept trying to make me drink it. Finally, in an attempt to make him back off, I took a sip.
“Mommy, you want to drink orange juice. Drink more,” he said as he shoved it in my face. I took it away from him and told him I didn’t want more.
“Mommy you want to drink orange juice!” He grabbed it and shoved it back up my nose.
“No. It’s icky. I don’t want to drink it.” I removed the cup from my nose and took it into the kitchen to dump it down the drain.
Next time, I think I’ll respect Michael a little more the first time he says no to a food.