Groundhog's Day

Remember that movie with Bill Murray and Andie McDowell? Where they're caught re-living the same day over and over again? Yeah, it's like that here, except it's a cycle that repeats every 20 minutes or so.
Quinn asking for apple juice.
Ever since I successfully weaned the Quinn-meister off the boob and onto the sippy cup, he's been great about drinking everything BUT milk. Unlike his older siblings who would cannot go an hour or two without milk, Quinn could care less. We've tried every form of milk on him - cow's milk, soy milk, almond milk, chocolate milk...nada. He spits it out in disgust. Unless there are cheerios or fruit loops floating around in the white liquid, he refuses to partake. Given his otherwise healthy and varied diet, the pediatrician advised us to leave it be. So, he drinks water and juice. Lots of it.And he's learned on Friday take out nights, Daddy has something yummy, sweet and bubbly in his cup, so he's constantly swiping his dad's soft drink.
And when his older siblings bring home juice boxes from their activities, he demands one of his own. I have relented, on those once a week occasions, letting him have his own juice box.
Now, he thinks he can get a juice box all the time.

"Mommy, apple juice??" he queries.
"Yeah, it's in your sippy cup."
"Noooo, I want apple juice!"
"Here, it's in the sippy cup. Watch me pour some more," I try to re-direct, a tactic that used to work in the past.
"Nooooo! Not cup! Want apple juice!" he cries.
"Sippy cup!"
And then the drama starts, with the head thrown back, and the flinging of his body onto the floor.

I ignore.

Five minutes later...

"Mommy, apple juice?" he asks with a smile.
"Yes, it's in the sippy cup."
"Mommy, want  apple juice?" he asks while dragging me to the cupboard where I "hide" the juice boxes.
"No, you can have the juice in your cup."
"Nooooo!" comes the cry and, this times, he's starting to bang his head against the cupboard.


A little later, while standing by the cupboard, "Mommy? Apple Juice? Peeze?"
"No."
"Peeze!!!" he screams while he's trying to reach the safety lock on the cupboard.

Really, either his short term memory is really terrible, or he's ever hopeful that Mommy's short term memory is terrible and I'll forget about denying his request a gazillion times, or he's super optimistic that Mommy will change her mind if he keeps wearing her down.
Whatever. I guess I have to admire his tenacity. Or stubbornness.

Oh, and happy Groundhog's Day on this Superbowl Sunday!