Have you’ve ever tried to reason with a picky eater? It’s a losing battle — amusing but losing, just the same. The logic between a picky eater and a non-picky eater does not line up. And when the picky eater is your child, well, you often find yourself trying all sorts of parenting tactics, often starting with ridiculous (and hilarious) conversations like these.
The Sensitive Snout
KID: Can I please eat outside?
DAD: Too cold.
KID: Can I eat in the car?
KID: How about the bathroom?
HOST FAMILY: What?
MOM: (To the host family.) I’m sorry. She has this thing about eggs. (To kid.) Ignore the eggs just this once.
KID: But they smell like dead baby birds!
MOM: Everyone grab a banana and a juice box for breakfast on-the-go!
KID: Bananas? GROSS!
MOM: Huh? You love bananas!
KID: Mom, bananas are disgusting!
MOM: You ate at least five last week.
KID: That was last week.
MOM: Don’t have time for this. Grab a banana like your brother, or go to school hungry.
Later that day, comes home with a notification from school that he visited the nurse’s office complaining of “stomach pains” — reason: “wasn’t given breakfast.”
This convo is one I recently had with my kinder.
KID: MOMMMMY! THE APPLE HAS DOTS! THEY LOOK LIKE POOP!
MOM: It’s fine, baby. Eat your apple.
KID: Yuck! I can’t!
MOM: Look at my face. My face has some dots. You still kiss Mommy’s dotty face, right?
KID: . . . Yes.
MOM: Now, can you please eat your perfectly good apple?
KID: (Looks horrified. Shakes her head.)
MOM: Yesterday, it was a pinkish patch on an apple. Before that, a slightly darker quinoa grain ruined the whole bowl, then a single piece of — (sighs) Point is, nothing and no one is perfect, not me, not even you.
KID: (Looks offended.)
MOM: But we’re still beautiful, still good, still deserve not to be called poop.
MOM: Look, if you stop living every time you notice something isn’t perfect, you’ll be paralyzed by perfectionism . . . and you’ll be really hungry.
MOM: So, go eat your apple and be free!
She ate every bit of the apple . . . expertly around the dots. I challenged her to eat a dot that day to see that it was just as good as the blemish-free parts. She did it — just ONE dot with her tiny front teeth and a wrinkled up nose, like a little gopher nibbling a toxic Who. Her kindergarten mind was blown that it didn’t taste like poop.
Parenting . . . one weird
battle lesson at a time.
Do you know a little picky eater? What are your thoughts on how to manage their sensitive tastes and highly selective preferences?