Anyone who has ever dined with our family knows we lay claim to one of the pickiest eaters known to childkind. 

For the last nearly-three years, we’ve let that slide for the sake of building our relationship with our son, fostering secure attachment, majoring in the majors, and all that.  But we’ve reached a point now at which we’re asking our little man to muscle through something new (or something he usually refuses) at least one night a week.  At all other times, our rule is generally that you may stop eating whenever you’d like; you just don’t get snacks between meals unless you’ve finished the prior meal.

Now while our little son (who shall remain nameless but whose cover is pretty much blown in the picture below) has a remarkably good attitude about this new change in our mealtime policy, it truly is hard for him to eat certain things.  Primary among his nemises: vegetables.  Any veggies, really.  The only one he feels safe with is raw baby carrots.  Just raw, not cooked.

But since man cannot live on raw baby carrots alone (without turning orangy-yellow), and because we can’t count on every other family catering to his highly-selective food preferences when we’re in their homes, we’re working on broadening his diet.  Like - gasp – mixed veggie acceptance.  Regular mixed veggies.  With a little bit of butter and some salt (he’s scared of pepper, too…sigh).

The other night, he sat there for a half an hour beyond when the rest of us had finished dinner and moved on to the next activity.  I came in to check his progress with the 4 tablespoons or so of mixed veggies he had been given and had, of course, saved for last.  THIS was the “progress” he’d made:

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His expression in the first picture typifies his feelings toward the offending vegetables.  Even after eating a few bites and those being ok, he remains ever fearful that the next bite will contain the dreaded “gross fings” he’s trying to avoid.

But he did do an excellent job of demonstrating his organizational skills, I think!

After praising the latter, I sat there with him and cheered him on, every bite, till he finished.

Then came tonight.  Tonight (Thursday) is “Family Night” in our house.  And we’d been planning all day to have a rousing four-way Wii-Sports match after dinner.  Chicken and mixed vegetables dinner.  Both familiar concepts.  Followed by a very popular video game (not to mention Papa’s and Mama’s undivided attention) – a great incentive for this little extravert.

I finished, Fred finished, the other son finished.  The son to whom this post is dedicated ate all his chicken and a few individual veggies (like one piece of corn at a time) and then balked.  We encouraged; he sat there; we reminded him that the game was next; he made glacial progress; so we moved to the next room to begin the game, telling him we’d stop and add him in as soon as he finished.

20 minute time lapse.

In wanders our long-lost veggie-hater, and he tells us he has finished his dinner.  We are excited and all go in to see.  (In the past, he is proud to show us his accomplishment, and we all [twin brother included] do a happy dance to celebrate, then give him a treat as a reward for doing something so hard for him).  This time, there is no celebration, no reward.

For what we find is a generous scattering of mixed vegetables sprinkled all over the floor underneath and around his chair.

Ah, well.  We knew we weren’t rearing a future President (they’re not native-born - no reflection on their otherwise bright prospects!).  But now we really know he’s NOT a reincarnation of the Father of our Country!