Dinner with my three year old

This evening I came home and found pasta sauce -- ready made, thank you, husband -- in the freezer, and boiled some pasta. Macaroni. My son's favourite. With tomato sauce, with vegetables and ground chicken. Daddy's homemade sauce. It's very yummy.

Me: Mommy's making macaroni with sauce for dinner! Yum!

Him: I don't like that.

Me: ... ok! Well, you don't have to eat it.

 ... later ... 

Me: ok, dinner time! Come and eat your dinner!

Him: No, I'm not hungry.

....

Me: (eating) Come on! It's dinner time! Yummy! Come and have some!

Him: No, I'm just only thirsty.

....

Me: Come and have your dinner!

Him: No!

Me: ok, how about two bites.

He pauses.

Him: No! I want three!

Me: Well ... OK, if that's what you want.

We eat three bites.

In the ages old practice of parents, I go back to my own bowl, as though I don't care. Which I do. But I'm ACTING.

Him: well, maybe another one.

Me: heh. 

But, you know, silently. He ate most of the rest of the bowl. Mommy power WINS AGAIN.