Eggs

Christie says to me this morning, "I want an omelet!" as I'm making an omelet for myself.  So I make her one, too, with turkey and swiss cheese.

I place the omelet in front of her and she says, "I don't want eggs!"

"Well, I say, that's what an omelet is.  It's eggs made fancy!"  Christie is unconvinced and refuses to eat the eggs.  She wants an omelet.

"Christie," I attempt, "You need to choose the right and eat the food your mommy makes you."

She leaves the kitchen and runs to her room.  A few seconds later she comes out and walks straight to the table, sits down and says, "I just had to put my flute away in my room."  Her flute is actually a recorder that she plays with while watching an Articles of Faith musical DVD.

Then she sits down and eats every bite of her eggs ... I mean, omelet.