So, the girls and I are eating breakfast this morning. I’ve got my egg beater omelet, turkey bacon and glass of V8.  I had pulled a cup of Weight Watchers yogurt form the fridge to finish off this little meal because I’ve got an insatiable sweet tooth and figured scarfing Golden Oreos 7:45 in the morning probably wouldn’t be setting a good example for the girls.  In truth, I’ve pulled out my fall clothes and in an attempt to make sure they fit throughout the entire fall season, I’m working on eating a little bit better.

The girls have a similar breakfast to mine: toast, bacon, and some yogurt.  We’re all happily munching when Morgan asks for more yogurt.  I go to the fridge, pull out the remainder of the yogurt cup she had been working from and bring it to the table.

“Activia. ” she says, looking at the container.  Morgan looks at my place.  “When I grow up, I hope I can eat Weight Watchers yogurt like you, Mommy.”

Oy.  My thoughts are fumbling all over each other as I try to construct a positive response without opening a floodgate of eating, body issue and self esteem queries.  “Oh, I don’t think you’re going to eat Weight Watchers yogurt when you grow up, ” I tentatively begin.  “Mommy is eating it right now because I didn’t make a good food choice over the week-end and my tummy hurts.  This will help me feel better.”  Hmm, not a bad response.  A little evasive, but not entirely false.  Focused on the positive. 

“Well,” says Morgan, fishing out some Activia, “You shouldn’t have eaten all of those potato chips for lunch every day when I was four years old.”

Waiiiiiiit a minute.  How do you even remember — never mind. “Yes, Morgan, you’re probably right.” Note to self: do not pack your lunch in front of Morgan.

“Yep, shouldn’t have eaten all. those.chips.” She takes a dainty slurp of yogurt. “That’ll make your tummy hurt.”

More often than not, I’m reminded of how much of what I say and do is absorbed by the girls.  At the risk of sounding totally Pollyanna, I continually have to make smart choices because they are always listening, always watching and always quick to tell me when I’m doing something wrong (i.e. “Mommy, we don’t say ‘crap’! Mommy, we don’t leave the toilet lid up! Mommy, we always try something before we say we don’t like it!).

Clearly, the student has become the teacher.