Yesterday one of my moms groups had a Pizza Playdate, where the kids (and mommies) got to make their own mini pizzas. I was looking forward to this very much, as Z loves to 'took' (cook) and has enjoyed the pizza-making tour at Flying Pie Pizzeria all 3 times we've gone. So I made sure we were going to get up and out the door in time.
"Okay! Let's get dressed! We're going to go make pizza!"
"I no wanna make pat-zuh!"
"Okay you can stay in the car with me when we get there then."
"....NO!"
[Madcap chase through the house, capture andtorture diaper-change of prisoner.]
"What outfit do you want to wear? This pink one or that orange one?"
"This one." [No hand or finger gestures to indicate which one]
"This pink one?"
"No! THAT outfit!"
"That orange one?"
"No THIS ONE!"
[Several repeats before Mommy realizes she means the pajamas that she's wearing.]
"Oh. You want to wear your pajamas?"
"Yay-ah"
".... Okay. Let's get some fresh pants to go with your pajama shirt then."
"Fresh pants! I. Need. Fresh. Pants."
"Okay, all good. Let's get in the car."
"I need to pa-ay!" (play)
"We'll play with the kids making pizza."
"I no wanna make pat-zuh!"
"We'll just go in and say hello then. You don't have to have any pizza."
"No say hello!"
"Okay. You don't have to say hello. You don't have to make pizza. You don't have to have any fun at all. I won't make you."
[Arrive at front door of Pizza Playdate house.]
"I need to go inside! I need to make pat-zuh! Ooo! Nookit! Toy-eez!"
The hostess had made homemade dough. It was crazy delicious! She also had a varied topping assortment available. Wasted on the pickiest eater on the planet. [Me, not Little Z. She'll eat most anything.] Z opted for olive oil in lieu of sauce, a mound of cheese (she chose mozzarella over colby-jack, which surprised me,) and olives. Lots and lots of olives. I finally had to take the bowl out of her reach in case anyone else wanted some. Hers was so tasty (I got the crusts) that I made my own with oil instead of sauce, and I tried a tomato slice on top. YUMMMMMMM-Y!
"Okay! Let's get dressed! We're going to go make pizza!"
"I no wanna make pat-zuh!"
"Okay you can stay in the car with me when we get there then."
"....NO!"
[Madcap chase through the house, capture and
"What outfit do you want to wear? This pink one or that orange one?"
"This one." [No hand or finger gestures to indicate which one]
"This pink one?"
"No! THAT outfit!"
"That orange one?"
"No THIS ONE!"
[Several repeats before Mommy realizes she means the pajamas that she's wearing.]
"Oh. You want to wear your pajamas?"
"Yay-ah"
".... Okay. Let's get some fresh pants to go with your pajama shirt then."
"Fresh pants! I. Need. Fresh. Pants."
"Okay, all good. Let's get in the car."
"I need to pa-ay!" (play)
"We'll play with the kids making pizza."
"I no wanna make pat-zuh!"
"We'll just go in and say hello then. You don't have to have any pizza."
"No say hello!"
"Okay. You don't have to say hello. You don't have to make pizza. You don't have to have any fun at all. I won't make you."
[Arrive at front door of Pizza Playdate house.]
"I need to go inside! I need to make pat-zuh! Ooo! Nookit! Toy-eez!"
The hostess had made homemade dough. It was crazy delicious! She also had a varied topping assortment available. Wasted on the pickiest eater on the planet. [Me, not Little Z. She'll eat most anything.] Z opted for olive oil in lieu of sauce, a mound of cheese (she chose mozzarella over colby-jack, which surprised me,) and olives. Lots and lots of olives. I finally had to take the bowl out of her reach in case anyone else wanted some. Hers was so tasty (I got the crusts) that I made my own with oil instead of sauce, and I tried a tomato slice on top. YUMMMMMMM-Y!
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