Grilled cheese or dog poop?

Most discussions regarding meals with Venice involve frustration on my part and the repeated phrase "I don't want it" on HER part. Inevitably, she winds up with chocolate pudding and hot cocoa for lunch because quite frankly, I get tired before she does. 

Our conversations generally go something like this:

Me:  Venice, do you want peanut butter and jelly for lunch?

Venice:  I don't want it.

Me:  How about chicken nuggets?

Venice:  I don't want it.

Me:  Macaroni and cheese?

Venice:  I don't want it.

Ad nauseum.

Saturday, while Wendy was cutting my hair and making me beautiful, she revealed a very helpful "Manipulating Venice" tip:  She offers Venice TWO choices, as in, "Venice, do you want spaghetti or dog poop for dinner?"

Venice always chooses spaghetti.

I filed this tidbit away for future reference, positive that I would be able to haul it out and use it to my advantage within the following week.

Sure enough, today was The Day.

Me:  Venice, what do you want for lunch?

Venice:  I want candy.

Me:  You can have candy after lunch.  Do you want peanut butter and jelly?

Venice:  I want candy.

Me:  Do you want chicken nuggets?

Venice:  No.

Me:  What do you want?

Venice:  I want candy.

A-HA!  Lightbulb moment!  I could use Wendy's trick.

Me:  Venice, do you want grilled cheese sandwhich or dog poop?

Venice (without batting an eye):  I want dog poop.

Alrighty then.  She turned her steely blue gaze on me and I gazed back, wondering which one of us would cave first.

It was me.

She discarded me with one blink and went back to watching her cartoon.

I pondered on what the hell to do. 

And then it hit me.

I reached up into the cupboard and grabbed the candy stash.  I stealthily unwrapped three mini tootsie rolls and placed them on a paper plate.

I placed them in the microwave and nuked them for a few seconds, then removed the plate and arranged the candy into very realistic looking chihuahua poop.

I put the plate on the table and said, "Venice, come eat your lunch.  Your dog poop is ready."

She looked at me for a second then got up and came to the table.  She sat down and stared at her plate.

I waited.

And waited.

And then...

Venice:  Dani?

Me:  Yes?

Venice:  I want gwilled cheese sammich.

Me:  Okay.  Want to help me make it?

I plopped her on the counter, dumped the "poop" into the trash, helped her make her sandwhich, let her help cook it, and after it was done she gobbled it down saying, "MMMM!  Yummy!  I WIKE gwilled cheese, Dani!  It's GOOD!"

Uh huh.

Score:

Venice: 45675849

Nanny:  1

Woot!