Tonight Esme asked for fries for dinner. She was dancing around my feet as I put them onto the baking sheet, obviously too hungry to wait the obligatory 15 minutes before they would be cooked. In a somewhat desperate attempt to avoid a meltdown, I let her pick up one of the frozen fries and try to eat it, while I told her that they were too cold and needed to be cooked.
She happily picked up the fry, but her face dropped as she realized how cold and hard it was. It barely made it to her mouth before it was declared "Yucky" and thrown back onto the baking pan. I popped the fries into the oven and went back into the living room to try to get Esme interested in a toy while her dinner cooked.
Esme played for 10 minutes or so before running back into the kitchen and crying for her dinner. Suddenly her crying stopped and she ran back into the living room and said to me "I want fries. I want too-hot fries. Okay!"
Luckily when we checked the oven the fries were all done and Esme tucked into a dinner of kidney beans, peas and too-hot fries.