Paved with Good Intentions

WHEREIN The Boy WON'T EAT HIS VEGETABLES AND NoMo SINKS TO A NEW LOW...

I consider myself a reasonably smart, fairly well-educated, sensible person. I have done a lot of reading and logged a lot of hours at the table. I sometimes even venture to offer advice to people (when they ask for it, of course) on tactics that have worked for me in the past. I thought I was working out an approach that worked for me and for The Boy. It's funny how you have every intention to do the best job mothering your child that you possibly can, and still fall very very short. Here's how last night's dinner played out (both actual conversation and inner dialogue):

NoMo: Are you ready for some yummy "broccoli pasta"? Oh, it's going to be so good I can hardly wait! (I can't believe that I'm already lying to The Boy and he's not even two...)
The Boy: (Where's the pasta?)
NoMo: Look, it's broccoli pasta! (I wonder if he's buying it?)
The Boy: Tasta! (I want pasta!)
NoMo: It is pasta, remember we cooked it together? It's pasta with a yummy cheesy sauce! (Lies, lies, lies...oh what a tangled web--)
The Boy: Cheess! (I want cheese!)
NoMo: There is cheese right there in your bowl.
The Boy: Cheess!! (Did she not hear me? I want cheese!)
NoMo: There is cheese there. Remember we made the cheesy sauce together? Mmmm it's so good. Look, Mummy's eating it! (Wow, this broccoli and cheese is actually really good. If he'd try it, he'd like it.)
The Boy: Soup. (Cheese soup, ok I'll eat some cheese soup, but none of that green stuff.)
NoMo: Don't you even want to try the broccoli pasta??
The Boy: No. Cheess! (No frackin' way am I eating that green stuff. Why won't this woman give me some cheese??)
NoMo: Fine. Here's some cheese. Mummy is taking away the yummy broccoli pasta. Mummy is very sad because the Boy won't even try the broccoli pasta when Mummy made it just for The Boy. You've hurt Mummy's feelings. (Mum is Sad. Very, Very Sad. She had a bad day. What a day Mum had. Wow, not only am I being emotionally manipulative, but I'm quoting Hop on Pop. This is bad. I need a timeout.)

So there you have it, folks. The Boy is not even two years old, and I've already resorted to guilt. And The Boy did not eat any vegetables, or really anything at all, other than cheese. The Boy: one. NoMo: nothing. How many strikes until I'm out, I wonder? They should really have a manual for this Mother-gig.