Lucy asked for an apple this morning.
Since she usually asks for blueberries (only about fifteen times a day) I was overjoyed.
Especially since we got a huge bag of great apples from our CSA last week. And I'm not much of a fruit eater.
Except the apple was cold, having been in the fridge.
"Cowd, momma, cowd," she said after nibbling on the edge of the cute little slices I'd made.
SOlution? One minute in the microwave! Then they were exciting baked apples!
"Hot! Momma! Hot!"
Restraining the urge to ask her if she thought she was Goldilocks, I stuck the plate in the freezer for a few minutes.
But even when the apples were just right, she refused to eat them. So I shrugged and picked up a slice and ate it. It was darned good. I think I like cooked apples better than raw.
Only it was apparently not okay for me to eat the apples she didn't want to eat. "Back! Back," she said, as I swallowed the last bite.
No, honey, really. You don't want it back. "If you want the apples, then eat them," I said.
Apparently, however, my logic was flawed. "No!"
I thought for a moment, then picked up another apple. I put one end in my mouth.
I bent down, and Goldilocks took the apple slice out of my mouth and ate it. Not all of it, but at least she tried it.
And we all lived happily ever after.