How long can this continue?
Initially we were not surprised. “It’s going to happen” some said. Non-stop. Indiscriminate. But we figured when we returned to the States a shift would occur. We arrived home and nothing changed. “How can this be?” we asked each other. “Is this normal?” and “Are all kids this way?”. We even asked the doctor, explaining our befuddlement only to be told there was nothing to worry about, to keep doing what we were doing.
I’m talking about…eating. Penelope has always been a healthy eater. On Gotcha Day she ate everything we put in front of her. The same for day two. On the third day she must have realized it was no longer necessary to eat things she didn’t care for, like watermelon. After a week she stopped eating bananas, which is bananas, since she will eat them without ceasing if you allowed her to.
The first week we were back I cooked tilapia with mushrooms and baked rosemary potatoes. She loved it. Jenn would make a delicious potato and zucchini quesadilla with sour cream on the side. Penelope loved all of it. In the first month the only rejection we received was for red cabbage. I can understand that one. If my brain wasn’t telling my how good it is for me I wouldn’t eat it either.
Tonight we had “tacos”. When Jenn announced the entre’ for the evening I thought she meant our standard fake ground beef with the standard taco fixings in a soft shell. All three of us love em’. When I went into the kitchen I found out this was not what she was making. This was rice, black beans, mushrooms, cilantro, and onions (with sour cream. We love sour cream).
Appearance does not indicate tastiness.
We’ve dispensed with soft taco shells for Penelope unless they are used to make grilled cheese. She will quickly disassemble whatever delicacy awaits inside, eat the shell, and dabble with the rest as though a spell can be cast from doing so. We’ve wised up and tonight Penelope got dinner in a bowl.
I don’t know that I would have eaten what was in the bowl when I was her age. My earliest memories of food are surrounded by golden arches. I was always a picky eater until Jenn and I married and our dietary adventures necessitated gastronomical experimentation. Beet lasagna anyone?
Eat it she did. Every bite. When I would pretend to put a fork full in my mouth Penelope would protest, squealing and opening her mouth. Her way of saying “what the heck are you doing, that’s my food!”.
I hope this behavior continues. Our doctor has encouraged us to continue feeding her what we eat, with the addition of whole milk.
Anyone else have this experience with their children? When they get older do they become more discerning, insisting on cereal and hamburgers?
