Wednesday night, I started heating up dinner to the usual chorus of can I have… instead. My son takes it a step further by pronouncing, “I’m done,” and starting to push his chair away from the table. This time, I calmly told him he needed to sit at the table with us. After being informed that he didn’t want what I was serving, I let him know that was ok. I proceeded to serve my daughter and myself, placed an empty bowl in front of my son, and started eating. His pouty face emerged, and he started crying. I calmly asked him what was wrong, and he answered that he did want dinner. At that point, I took his bowl, filled it with food, heated it up, and put it in front of him. He ate the whole serving without complaining. Yay.