I live with Hannibal Lecter

Seriously.

Last night, while yet again refusing to be agreeable, my child revealed his cannibalistic tendencies. A little background is necessary. I came home from school determined to cook my son a good meal. I gave him a snack of popcorn and then put the chicken in the oven. Before I put the macaroni on to boil, he began wailing for a cherry popsicle. While I waited for the water to boil, he continued his rant.

My husband decided that now was a good time to go run his errands. He apologized before he left.

12 minutes later and the macaroni was done. I mixed in the cheese, stirred the green beans, checked the time on the chicken. Quincy continued with his tirade. I called my sister to see if she had any ideas. Nope. None.

25 minutes in and he kept saying, "I want a cherry popsicle! I need a cherry popsicle!" I tried arguing that he didn't need one. Didn't work. I said, "I want a nice, quiet little boy. Maybe I'll go find one and bring him home? What would you do then?"

"I would eat him," answered my sweet little boy.

There you have it.

(He got the popsicle after he ate his dinner by the way. Yay for me! I said no and stuck with it.)