Mean Old Mom. I like this kind of meanness.
Tonight before bed, Julian asked for ice cream. He'd earned it, since as usual, he'd eaten all his dinner, including a healthy dose of spinach. Gabriel wanted ice cream too, but he hadn't touched his spinach. I told him no, he had to eat some spinach first. So I put a plate of creamed spinach in front of him and told him that was his road to ice cream. He objected at first, but ice cream was too powerful an incentive.
This on the tails of a complaint by the boys, on the way home from pickups, "Mommy, how come we never get to go to McDonald's?"
Yessiree, this is the sort of mom-you-are-so-mean I can live with. Despite the strong risk that I'm permanently turning them off to spinach, and elevating McDonald's to forbidden-fruit status.