Two-thirds of my kids are picky eaters. Our nearly-off-the-charts-one-year-old
would probably eat a phone book if we had one.
My five and seven-year-old would rather eat noodles, bread, sugary
stuff, snack foods, dry cereal, and some berries every day. Dinner time is interesting in our house, but
it’s also fun because whenever possible we sit at the table together. There’s typically a lot of bargaining at the
table which can turn fun into stress.
Lots of if/then statements are made by my husband in generally thwarted
attempts to get these two to try new foods.
Meanwhile baby in the highchair is the only one scarfing down a warm
meal.
I start to think the older kids’ palates are developing and
then, wham, back to the nuggets. Don’t
judge. I occasionally offer veggie
nuggets which they don’t realize are not made of poultry, and I try to offer
healthy options (or “healthful” if your name is Rachael Ray), but those options
are sometimes quickly exhausted and so am I.
Maybe I’m giving myself a bad rap as I have been known to hastily throw
in the mommy towel after a long day, but... I know, I know…Yes, I’ve read
Jessica Seinfeld’s sneaky cookbook and even tried some sneaky recipes, but my
kids are good detectives.
Tonight my son asked me for a tortilla as I was whipping up
some chicken enchiladas, one of dear hubby’s favorite meals that our kids balk
at and make “BLEH” faces when they look at them. Apparently my enchiladas are stuffed with
“icky stuff” like rotisserie chicken, chilies, sauce, and “ewww – cheese”
(Really, kids?! Come on! Cheese is glorious). Anyway, I let him enjoy a plain tortilla
(gross) as I finished making our dinnerS.
I hear,”Hey, Mommy, look! Mom! It’s a tortilla snowflake.”
As creative as it was I couldn’t say, “Son, don’t play with
your food.” I am a firm believer that
squelching activity that sparks creativity in kids is a no-no (unless they’re
harming themselves or someone else, of course; in that case I think a
pleasantly raised voice is key – pronto!).
Instead of putting the kibosh on his gnawing of the tortilla I took a
picture of it, because naturally he asked me to, and in this day and age we
photograph everything. Don’t we, folks,
especially our food, right?
I wish his food choices would be as creative as his food
art, but I know in time that will come.
I know this, because I recall what I was like as a kid. I would pick hamburger out of things, put
butter on everything like a mini Paula Deen, hid veggies under the rim of my
plate like my big brother had taught me to, etc. I also recall what my
sheltered palate was like before I graduated from microwaved Ramen noodle
college, married a man with an adventurously spicy palate, travelled and finally
sampled food from places other than the southeastern United States, and became
addicted to The Food Network.
My son does eat things kids typically don’t eat, but things
that we don’t keep stocked in our home like crab legs. He has champagne taste I guess when it comes
to some food. My daughter would eat
noodles with “Papa John cheese” (a.k.a. parmesan cheese – it’s just too cute to
correct just yet) for every meal if we allowed it, but we do not. I know waiting for their palates to develop
won’t be like flipping a light switch, but as they grow, accept challenges, and
have senses that also mature (like taste buds and sense of smell), I assume
they will in fact try enchiladas and what not and maybe actually dig them. I also know that I am in no rush for the
flipping of the light switch to happen, because that will mean they’re no
longer little and lately part of me just wants to freeze time and make tortilla
snowflakes.
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