Picky Eaters

My grandson James will eat the following things:

 1. French fries

2.        2. Bacon

3.        3. Peanut Butter sandwiches on a certain type of bread.

4.        4.  Anything in the candy or cookie family.

5.       5.  Certain types of berries.

6.        6.  An occasional yogurt. (If you kind of sneak it in on him while he’s watching a DVD.)

His mama and her younger sister would eat anything remotely resembling a food item that was set before them. Their baby sister was pickier, but nothing like her nephew.

He is a health-freak’s worst nightmare.

I tried to be so vigilant with my first two.

Sugar never polluted their mouths.

Katherine had never tasted it until her first birthday. Somewhere (I hope) there is still a 1983 video showing her doing a Mexican hat dance after her first piece of birthday cake. She was like a Mexican jellybean on speed. Sugar frenzy.

The result of all my diligence was that when they went to the homes of my more nutritionally liberal friends, my dainty little girls completely cleaned out their cookie drawers.

Years later, we all died laughing about the lengths to which the hostesses of play groups were forced to go when the Arnold girls were on the invitation list. Even the mothers of ex-boyfriends have told me horror stories of how they had to make a special trip to the grocery store if they knew one of my girls was coming over.

Funny.

I guess.

So anyway, it has been a shock to have to contend with the Ultimate Picky Eater.

Forgive me, Lord, for how I used to judge other mothers. I assumed that you could just put something before a child, and if they didn’t want to eat it, they could go hungry.

Right. Especially when you’re got much, much bigger battles to fight.

So we sneak nutrients in through the milk, through gummy bear vitamins, through the diarrhea-producing berries. And save our energy for those larger battles.

Coming from this environment, it was quite a shock last weekend to be around a Perfect Child.

I mean, I thought that my grandson had to be the cutest baby on planet earth, but this one gives him a serious run for his money.

The daughter of Middle Child’s college roommate, she is the quintessential Gerber Baby. Only prettier and more feminine. And happy all the time.

This extends to the dining table.

We thought it was a mistake when the waiter brought over a plate of barely steamed veggies. I started to redirect them, when Baby’s Mama said “No, those are for her.”

The angelic little one-year-old grabbed a carrot started munching away.

She cleaned her plate. By the end, I was photographing her eating a crispy stalk of asparagus to send back to James.  The only thing remotely similar to a vegetable that he’s managed to swallow is a veggie chip.

The next day at lunch, I put Perfect Baby to the test. I innocently handed her the lemon from my tea. We had the camera ready to catch the grimace that would surely come.

This is what we got:

 Then she grabbed the lemon out of my hand and started sucking on it.

Her mother came up and we laughed about it.  She took it out of her mouth to see what would happen.That baby seized it and popped it back in her mouth. (Don't worry, we wouldn't have let her choke on it as Middle Child famously did on one. That's a story for another day.)

I thought about it later.  (Of course.)

What makes some of us so open, so willing, to experience new tastes and textures? So reluctant to reject a new experience out of hand simply because it is unfamiliar?

Is our level of discrimination something wired in from birth?

I can see advantages to either end of the spectrum. The more discriminating child might be as reluctant to jump into harm’s way as he is to trying broccoli. The more open child probably wouldn’t cry when you dropped her off at camp.

Who knows? Every child is unique.

But there was something very endearing about that beautiful baby's innocence in trusting that everything coming from her mother’s hand was good for her. And receiving it with joy.

Oh, for a child-like trust that everything coming from the hand of my Father is good for me.

Even the lemons.

***************

I want to thank everyone who has contributed to the conversation in the last several days. I love it when we can share our hearts. A couple of people have asked if any offense was taken in what they wrote. Please let me assure you that none was. When I saw that some of the comments on "Beautiful Brides" were headed toward a discussion of issues that can lead to denominational disputes, I felt it was necessary to interject that it is important to me to keep the 'main thing the main thing,' as someone said. I want everyone who's interested to feel welcome here,  and not be put off by doctrinal differences.

Now, onward and upward!  Anybody got any good ideas about how we can expand James' palate?

Is this a precious face, or what?