My daughter (we will call her Roo) has always been an “easy” child. She was in a hurry to sleep through the night when she was a baby, and in most ways is incredibly well behaved and polite. She’s compassionate, and her tantrums are few and short lived.
You see, Roo is a picky eater *cue ominous music*.
After reading all the rules about what not to do (“don’t force them, don’t beat them, don’t give up”) and what to do (“offer variety”) – blah blah blah blah blah! – all that happened was a lot of chicken nuggets and V8 Fusion juice.
Literally. My child eats the following without fighting:
Juice (any veggie blended juice is adorably called “Sneaky Juice”)
Oh. And chocolate milk.
I left out the obvious crap like cookies, cake, ice cream.
It’s become ridiculous. Any food approaching her that is not on the list is met with blood curdling shrieks.
So I devised an evil plan (muahahahaha). She’s now been enslaved in the kitchen.
Okay okay. Enslaved sounds a little harsh. I’m training her to be my mini dinner cooking assistant!
Tonight was a trial run. We bundled up and walked to the grocery store to select our produce. A variety of colorful potatoes, carrots, onion, and zucchini were chosen by Roo (with help). She seasoned and stirred and shook ziplock bags. She was excited as we put the pan into the oven! And a rainbow of roasted vegetables was born!
And it was delicious.
And she refused to eat one freaking bite. She selected a speck of cauliflower from a half assed chicken pot pie as her single surrender after an hour of creative attempts at coaxing her to try her dinner.
There were tears, and shrieks, and temporary insanity.
But the meal was a victory. I got the whole family at the table, my husband and I practiced team work (“Come on Roo, open your mouth so the train can go into the tunnel. Chugga chugga choo choo!”), and my child licked cauliflower.