There's nothing I dread more than 5 o'clock rolling around each night, which means it's time to start figuring out what to make for dinner. If I make pasta, my husband won't want it. If I make chicken, my daughter won't eat it. And if I make shrimp...well, my son won't even go near it because he is the pickiest one of all.
"Dinner time is some ultimate bullsh*t and I'm TIRED of it," the Honest Toddler author begins her post. "I'm not running for public office, but if I were, my entire platform would be that all children under 10 be fed exclusively Ensure until they learn to cook for themselves whichever happens first."
I am SO #WithHer! Whatever it takes to stop the insanity, right?
"It is absolutely insane that every night, mothers and fathers are forced to waste their life force trying to convince their seed to CONTINUE LIVING via the ingestion of essential nutrients," she continues. "You don't see baby koalas and buffalo rejecting their bamboo and savanna grass do you? You don't see little toddler alligators talking about, 'Mama, this gazelle is too stringy. It's hot. Mama the blood is hot. It's hot, mama. Can you blow on it even though I too am capable of blowing?' You don't hear baby seagulls asking how many more bites of sewer garbage they have to eat until they can go shit on a sunbather. No. It's just human children."
Laditan's point about animals is good stuff. And while it may be hilarious, the underlying message is completely valid: Only human parents are big enough suckers to let our offspring dictate what they put in their mouths every night. And Laditian is so done.
"I'm sick of cooking food 1/3 or 2/3 or 0/3 of them like and watching them look at their plates of pan-seared chicken thighs with roasted potatoes and baby corn like it's a pile of duck tongues served...on a bed of infant baby fingers garnished with dirty toenail clippings, backwash and leprosy," she says. "It's not poison, kids, it's called FOOD welcome to life."
Preach, Mama! She then goes on to suggest that instead of feeding our children individually in our own homes, all of us moms and dads need to come together at giant picnic tables in the street sitting side by side.
"Screw traffic—every night at 6PM, we set up the collapsible tables and do it orphanage-style," she explains. "Handing out sandwiches and apple slices and then hosing down the kids with dish soap (bath time) and calling it a night. Success"
Totally in. Who else is with me?