She sat for way too long staring at the pasta dish a friend made that I knew was delicious if she’d just try it. She was thisclose to crying into the bowl. With our tantrum history around meals, I could feel myself going to an angry auntie place that is not cool. So I paused for a moment to gather myself, then jumped up with false cheer. “Want me to cut it up smaller? Yeah, let’s cut it up. Wanna help? We can put in the microwave to heat it up a little bit too.” At this, she brightened just a smidgen. “Aunt Keke, can I push the numbers on the microwave?” “Of course you can! I’ll even let you put the bowl INSIDE the microwave. Can you handle that?” She grinned from ear to ear; homegirl likes to help. Two minutes later, she was sitting in front of the bowl again, now next to me on the couch with Spongebob playing in the background. She seemed braver, but she was still looking at the mushrooms and shrimp warily. “Oh, that’s just chicken,” I said with a shrug. “You’ll love it.” She ate the whole thing pretty quickly after that.
Who runs this?