A Battle of Wills

6:24 PM: Owen finishes his corn on the cob and medium rare rib eye with mild, kid-friendly garlic rub. He gives his 2 ounce serving of milk the hairy eyeball.

I reply that, like his sister, he must finish his milk in order to be "all-done."

He resists, whines, cries, bangs his head on the table, and generally carries-on for a while, before finally succumbing to my eleventeenth attempt at the "just one sip? then we can go from there..." gambit.

As I predicted, "just one more" turns into "just one more? all the way to the bottom of the glass" in less than a minute.

6:45 PM: I, wearily, but with great cheer and enthusiasm, wipe off his milk mustache and get him down from his booster seat.

I am the warrior!