I have mentioned before that my four-year-old son, Finn, is the pickiest of picky eaters. My older son has always been an adventurous eater, and I was smug about that until Finn came along. Now I know I can’t take any credit for Gabe’s love of artichokes and Ethiopian food — he just came that way.
Finn’s dad says he’s a “cheeseatarian.” We do our best to accommodate, within reason. I have no problem letting him eat PBJ on whole wheat or grilled cheese. We simply give him pasta without tomato sauce or leave the veggies off a small section of pizza for him. I have to be careful to remove every tiny bit of broccoli or carrot from his stir-fried tofu (which he does like, strangely), or he will scream like he’s seen a giant spider on his plate: “There’s a vegetable, Mama! Get it OFF!”
I think our policy of not making a huge deal of this is paying off. Finn has recently become a little more open to trying certain fruits; he even ASKS for bananas now and then; he will get a tiny bite of beans & rice down (with great drama, but no vomiting, at least) if it means he will get dessert; he likes fruit smoothies.
Last night Finn very sweetly tried to share with me the candy pictured above, which I gather is some godawful Mickey-Mouse-shaped Sweet Tart-ish thing that would make my teeth hurt. I politely declined.
“Come on, Mama, you’ll like it,” he said. “It’s good!”
“No, no, that’s okay. None for me,” I said. “Thanks, though. That’s really nice of you, to share.”
“Mama!” He insisted. “Have some. You should try NEW FOODS!”
“Once there was a little tree. And a big tree came along and ate him. And then a bigger tree came along and ate him. And then they were all dead. And a house came along and said (low voice here), ‘Oh my goodness, they’re all dead.’ The End!”
