Bride For Dishes

Only two bites have been taken. Twenty minutes have passed. Meatball is done, I'm done, yet Nugget still sits in his seat, singing, making funny faces and playing..with anything but the pancakes he begged me to make this morning.
"Eat."
"No eat. Play."
Sigh.
"Nugget, you need to eat so we can get ready."
"No eat. Play."
"Your friend is coming."
"No eat."
"Don't you like the pancakes."
"No. Fruit."
"No fruit until you eat your pancakes."
"Fruit."
Sigh. The frustration is creeping in. I need a new tactic.
"I'm going to change Meatball," I say, pulling his brother out of the highchair. "You can sit there and finish your pancakes."
Nugget protests asking to come with, but I stick to my guns, walk into the kids bedroom and start dressing Meatball. Does this work, you ask. Do I walk back into the kitchen, ten minutes later, to see a clean plate and a fed 2 year old? Nope. Nugget's as content as can be, sitting in his booster seat and singing. The pancakes have not been touched.
Sigh.
I have 30 minutes to get him dressed before my other little boy shows up for daycare, in case you're wondering I watch another little 2 year old through the week, and he's not budging. I have dishes piled up in the sink, a living room that needs to be straightened up and a foodless child who needs to get dressed. Inside I'm panicking. Taking Nugget away from the table without eating equals two things, he won his battle with mom and he'll have an early morning meltdown due to an empty tummy. Suddenly it hits me. The dishes. I need to do the dishes.
I put Meatball in his bouncy seat and walk over to the sink. I turn on the water, soap up my sponge and start washing. Any second now he'll...
"I do, I do."
"You do what," I ask surprised.
"I do dishes."
"You want to do dishes?"
"Yeah!"
I've hooked him, he's bouncy in his seat.
"As soon as you finish your pancakes you can help mommy do the dishes, okay," I say, looking away from him and going back to my dishes.
Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand rise to his mouth. One bite has went in. Then another. Another.
Three clean plates later Nugget is done.
"All done mommy," he proudly exclaims, raising his hands in excitement.
"Good job," I say. "Would you like to help me do the dishes."
"Yeah," he shouts.
I pull his sticky body out of the booster seat, remove his pj's and place him on the counter next to the sink.
"Need soap mommy."
I soap up an extra sponge and hand it to Nugget, along with a plastic bowl.
Ten minutes later my dishes are done, Nugget's belly is full and the sticky hands I would have had to scrap syrup off of have washed themselves clean in the soapy mess. I get Nugget ready, straighten up the books and toys in the living room, change another messy diaper from Meatball and open the door for my little daycare boy in the nick of time. All do to a sink of dirty dishes. Funny how this mom thing actually works to your advantage some times.