Rose’s eyes are too big for her stomach. After Thanksgiving dinner, I took her up to the desserts on the counter and asked her which one she wanted.
Me: Do you want apple pie?
Rose: No! I want that one!
Me: Chocolate cake?
So I picked up this piece of chocolate cake and Rose started screaming.
Rose: NO! NO! NO! That one!
Me: Which one? It’s chocolate cake or apple pie!
Rose: I want that one!
Rose: Yes! That one!
Obviously I couldn’t let my 2 year old consume one of the biggest, richest chocolate cakes I’ve ever seen. I mean, a ton of other people at Thanksgiving hadn’t had dessert yet. I’m sure if left to her own devices with a giant cake, she’d end up covered in chocolate from head to toe and when I’m traveling I’m just not equipped to handle such a disastrous mess. And I’m sure that type of overeating, somewhat on par with a hot dog eating champ’s consumption considering the cake was as big as she is, would result in Rose becoming very sick after the fact.
Me: Oh! Well, you can’t eat that BIG cake. You can have a piece of the cake like this one.
I tried to hand her a small piece of the cake again.
Rose: NO! I want that one!
Every adult in the room was cracking up at this point.
It turned out that Rose’s wee little toddler brain couldn’t comprehend that the first piece of cake came off of the giant cake. When I cut her a new piece of cake, as brilliantly suggested by my mother, she was as happy as a clam. She needed to physically see the piece of cake come off the big cake to accept that she was eating the same thing. Nothing we could say about the first piece of cake could convince her that it had anything to do with the big beautiful cake she wanted so badly.
Though she worked at this piece of cake a long time, barely any of it was consumed. Can you imagine what would have happened if we gave her the giant cake?