He's crafty - and he's just my type

"Black cookie!  BLACK COOOOKIIIEEEE!!!!"

TP and I have an ongoing battle involving the timing of snacking.  TP's idea of dinner, when he hasn't concocted some gourmet meal worthy of the Food Network, is to stand in front of the pantry doors and nibble on this and nosh on that.  To my inevitable evening inquiry of "what do you want for dinner?" his equally inevitable response is, "Oh, I'll find something."  That's all well and good for this grown man who fended quite well for himself long before I came into his life.  For ZP, however, it's another matter.  

Back in the days when ZP would eat next to nothing, TP would offer him ANYTHING just to get him to eat.  When he discovered that ZP quite enjoyed chocolate chip cookies ("cookies and the dots") or the Chocolate Raspberry Milano cookies ("black cookies"), it became a habit of TP's to offer him cookies anytime he entered his line of sight.  Cybermom is always amused at catching ZP imitating his father and opening the pantry doors and gazing at the cornucopia of cookies and crackers and snookies and snackers within reach before deciding on one and hefting it over to us to open for him.  I keep up the threat of "if you give him cookies before dinner, then YOU are in charge of feeding him dinner" because I'm tired of being the villain, of fighting with ZP to eat a morsel of a proper meal, of being the object of sidelong glances when TP quietly confides to ZP, "no, Mommy said you can't have that."  But in the end, I take pity on TP and ZP and end up doing the whole song and dance routine to get ZP to have some dinner before he implodes.

Last night, our little family unit was gathered in the kitchen and while I was chatting it up with AP, ZP tried to whisper something to TP in his most charming, adorable two-year old way.  TP laughed and then told ZP to ask Mommy.  Chagrined that his father was ruining his attempt at subterfuge, he trained his sights on me and with a plaintive look and super grin asked, "Mommy?  Cookies?"  He took my hand and with guided-missile accuracy aimed it at the bag of cookies that were juuuuust out of his reach.  I sighed, glared at TP, and had to say, "No, not yet.  After dinner."  He kicked up a  little fuss but then backed down to regroup.  Not a moment later, while I was taking my plate into the dining room, ZP said, "Mommy.  GO UPSTAIRS." while dragging TP's hand over to the pantry.  CHEEKY MONKEY!  I can't believe he is already at that stage where he tries to outwit his parents.  The next thing you know, he'll be asking me if he can watch some crappy TV because he knows I'll say yes when Daddy tries, "no."  REVENGE!