One of our sons is a somewhat picky eater. I don’t like when someone is a picky eater. We live in a land of plenty, and Charity cooks really good food, which my physicality is evidence of. We require that our children eat what we cook.
There is no reason for any adult or child to be handed a plate of food (minus hair, mold, or tiny droplets of fecal matter) and not be able to eat until the hunger pains cease. Now, I know some have autism or other things that cause them not to be able to eat food with certain textures. But I’m talking about those who don’t have any issues except being spoiled rotten.
The other day, this particular son, who shall remain numberless, was handed a bowl of homemade beef stew. He proceeded to explain how disgusting it was and how he was suddenly full to the brim, unable to eat.
We proceeded to explain how he would sit at the table until he ate one-fourth of a bowl of stew, which was the exact amount his mother had given him.
“But I don’t like the brown stuff.” He said as he eyed the meat in the stew.
Then, his mother came up with a genius idea. She told him to close his eyes and take a bite. He did.
His eyes still closed, he smiled and said, “Oh, yummy. I like these potatoes, Momma.”
He ate the entire one-fourth of the bowlful with his eyes closed. I don’t remember being like that as a child. My parents never allowed me to become picky.
I can’t remember the amount of times we went somewhere where cleanliness wasn’t a priority, and we were told, “We don’t know what they’re fixing, but you WILL eat it. Every. Single. Bite.” This statement was accompanied by a side-eye glance and arched eyebrows. “And if you say anything about it, you will get it.”
And we all know what “get it” meant. That meant we were more than happy to eat the offerings of those who were hospitable and gracious enough to invite us into their homes. The alternative was not pleasant — much more unpleasant than eating whatever it was we ate.
As far as I know, the only two things I don’t eat regularly are peas, blue cheese, and cottage cheese. All other vegetables and cheeses are consumable. And I consume them with vigor.
But, if need be, I will eat peas topped with moldy cheese and curdled chunks of milk.
to anyone who might pick and choose,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 