It's just overkill.

Lately, I really like that song: Overkill, by Colin Hay. I just had to mention that.

Anyway, speaking of Overkill, let me vent about my son. Most people who have multiple children must have them close enough together so that they don't experience the things that they don't like about parenting until after they have procreated another person and it's too late.

My husband and I are not those people.

We have ample time to "enjoy" everything. Now don't get me wrong. Most of the things he does are incredibly adorable. Who doesn't love the laughter of a tiny tot? It's hard to resist.

What isn't hard to resist is the nightly battle to keep the milk in the glass and the food on the plate. Each meal starts out promising enough with our son taking nice little bites on his little fork. But then the "boy" in him comes out and that plate gets dumped all over the tray. Then he sits there while we tell him that is not okay and take the plate away and tell him that he will just have to eat it off the trap now. And that's when the whole swish it all around with the hands takes place. Seriously kid! Then we scold him again and then he signs milk because we foolishly think he is thirsty. But then he takes one sip and then dumps the milk on top.

WHY WOULD ANYONE INTENTIONALLY GO THROUGH THIS MULTIPLE TIMES?!?

Every night of dinner that we get through is one night closer to him not doing that and eating like a nice boy. At least that is what I tell myself every night. "We are one night closer to eating a meal like a normal family." But I guess 'normal' is a relative term, and maybe by some standards, we already are.